By the Light of a Dying Star
by Cerastella
Summary: As the Old Republic wanes and dark times draw closer, Isharia Ashaki strives to carve out her place in a galaxy on the edge of disaster while running from past she left behind. As the seeds of dissent are sown around her, will she stand tall or become part of the coming tragedy? Obi-WanXOC
1. Chapter 1: At the Begining

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 1: At the Beginning

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine**

* * *

The first time she met him she was eighteen.

She was accompanying Dr Ranil on his monthly trip to the Temple. It was a miserable morning on Coruscant. The sky was an overcast shade of grey and the rain that horrible fine stuff that clings to your skin. The sun, still low in the sky, shone hazily through the formidable cloud cover making its rays cold and ultimately useless.

Isharia shivered and drew her coat closer around herself. The damp air sinking into her chest and chilling her throat with each breath. Although the weather on Coruscant was controlled by the mechanical minds of the WeatherNet droids, it still felt to her as if some ancient god was intent on making this morning as dull and uninviting as possible.

Turning her mind away from the weather she gazed at their destination from the open top university speeder. Upon a massive half-pyramid base five soaring spires towered above the surrounding landscape, their height dominating the horizon and casting long shadows on the district below. It was quite a sight, an enduring stone symbol of the sanctity of the hallowed order within its walls.

The Jedi Temple.

The whole complex was built upon one of Coruscant's highest natural mountains and was thousands of years old. The sprawling ziggurat base provided a maze of expansive empty halls, gardens and labyrinthine passages. Each level of the structure containing a new array of forgotten secrets and whispered knowledge and, at its heart, the mountain's peak and the base of Tranquillity Spire. It was a massive thing, stretching a kilometre into the sky and housing some of the most sacred objects of the Order: texts and artefacts documenting the history of the Jedi, countless works of art and thousands of priceless tomes.

Within the walls of the Temple was held a greater store of knowledge than anywhere else in the galaxy, collected and preserved by millennia worth of scholars. It was enough to make her salivate at the thought of accessing even a small portion of that information.

But alas, that was not the purpose of this visit.

Looking on the Temple, Isharia couldn't help but compare it to buildings of similar purpose back home. Brionian Force Academies might as well have been shacks compared to this towering behemoth. Even Homestead, the heart of the lauded Hunters Guild was nothing to the Temple's might.

' _Jedi,'_ her grandmother had said, _'never in the galaxy will you find a people more unaware of their own sense of self-importance.'_

Looking at the Temple Isharia couldn't help but agree. While awe-inspiring (especially for a first-time visitor such as herself) it did seem a tad unnecessarily large. Truly, only beings with a rather _healthy_ perception of their own grandeur would need a building _quite_ this big, one only had to look at the Senate rotunda as proof.

As they sped across the Temple district Dr Ranil inclined his head toward her, "Impressive, isn't it?"

Turning her head to face him Isharia took a moment to contemplate the question, "It depends on what you mean by that. But yes, I suppose it is." She looked back over to the Temple, "If you're into that sort of thing anyway," she said with a shrug.

The doctor raised an incredulous eyebrow before sighing, "Only you, Miss Ashaki, only you."

They carried on in silence as Dr Ranil skilfully piloted the speeder around the various stragglers and maintenance droids hurtling through early morning gloom, the Temple growing larger with each passing minute. Temple District was almost empty this time of day, being several hours too early for the regular commuters and several too late for returning party-goers.

"It's a great privilege, you know," Dr Ranil began, not taking his eyes off the skylane, "being able to work with the Jedi as we do. Not many scientists and medics have had the honour of working with the Medical Corps, let alone being able to access their labs." His eyes lit up and his face became more animated as he continued, "Just think of the discoveries we could make! With the Jedi's unique perception of the body through the Force and the university's cutting-edge research techniques we could save millions!"

Internally Isharia sighed. She admired his optimism, she really did, but if there was one thing she had learnt over the years about Force sensitives it was that most were notoriously secretive when it came to their abilities. For all his good intentions about this project, Ranil would be lucky to get more than the bare minimum of cooperation from the Jedi. Back on Brion, the scholars and researchers at the academies worked with no one but each other and hoarded their results like a Hutt did slaves. From her years offworld Isharia had learnt the Jedi were the same, if not worse, concerning their practises. Isharia felt bad for Ranil, as one of the younger professors at the First Republic Medical Academy of Coruscant he had yet to suffer the disappointment many of his elder colleagues had felt regarding projects gone wrong.

As they grew closer to the Temple she decided to voice what had been burning on her mind since she had found out she was accompanying him two days ago. "I still don't understand what I'm doing here, Doctor. I'm not even fully trained yet, I doubt I'll be much help _or_ garner much respect from the Jedi," she said, focusing intently on their destination.

Ranil head snapped to her, shocked. "No one told you? Really?"

"Obviouslynot," she replied, her tone sarcastic as she continued to stare at the Temple.

Ranil turned back to the skylane and hummed, "You remember we did your blood work when you entered the university?" he asked, at her hum of recognition he continued, "Well, one of the usual tests is a midichlorian count, just for reference purposes you understand. When the department ran yours they were shocked, your blood came back with a count of around some 14,000! I'm not sure you know this, but even amongst the Jedi that's unusually high. With you being born in the Core, you _should_ have been picked up by the Order."

Oh. _That_.

"I just thought that you of all people deserve to see the Temple, and since the Board has been pestering me for a while now about taking a student with me my mind naturally turned to you. It doesn't hurt that you _are_ one the more promising members of my class." He looked to her and grinned, "also the idea of having a Force sensitive's perspective of the place was simply too fascinating to pass up."

Isharia internally cursed, she had forgotten about that blood test. The last thing she wanted to do was attract the attention of the Order and therefore attract their attention to Brion. She had simply been far too preoccupied with the thought of the university discovering that her records had been falsified and having her arrested to care too much about the test. She knew it was a risk attending a university so close to the heart of the Jedi Order but she had been so _desperate_ to get _as far away as possible_ from Brion and the expectations of her family to give more than a passing thought to it. It was now evident that that had been a bad idea.

Brion was not a member of the Republic. In fact, it practised a strict isolationist policy and, as a result, had faded into obscurity, a mere footnote in the history of the galaxy. Brion did not send data on children's midichlorian counts to the Order and Brionian Force sensitives never became Jedi. Instead, they trained at one of Brion's few Force Academies to control their abilities and gain an education before joining the rest of the population in one of many various professions. A small number of Academy graduates went on to professions specific to Force sensitives while the lucky minority were selected to become Hunters and join the Guild. That was one of the highest honours on Brion, one that every child dreamed of.

' _The Guild,'_ thought Isharia nastily, _'even more presumptuous than the Jedi.'_

"Well, we're here!" Dr Ranil's voice snapped her out of the unpleasant direction her thoughts had been taking. She was so deeply entrenched within her own mind that she had failed to notice that they had pulled up outside the northern entrance to the Temple. Giving it a once over she noticed that unlike the main entrance, the northern entrance was fairly plain with only a few bronze statues and some Temple Guards posted by the doors.

Gathering herself up, Isharia leapt deftly over the edge of the speeder onto the stone paving slabs below. They had been arranged into an artful spiral pattern, circling outwards from the centre of the entrance courtyard towards a pair of fine wooden doors. A rare site on Coruscant-what with the lack of trees and most other flora.

' _Some austere, semi-monastic order they are, they even have decorative paving stones,'_ she thought wryly.

Isharia bent over and stretched her legs before reaching upwards and yawning widely, the sleeves of her coat falling to rest around her elbows. She relished the chance to be out of the speeder, the trip had been some three and a half hours from the Fobosi District to the Temple and it had meant she'd had to wake long before dawn to make it here for the time the Jedi were expecting them. The Jedi, it seemed, kept far more punishing hours than most of Coruscant.

Dr Ranil exited and locked the speeder before motioning for her to follow. She jogged around to fall in step with him as they made their way towards the doors. Thinking about the doctor's comment on Force sensitivity, Isharia took the opportunity to stretch out with her mind and almost stumbled as the most complete wave of serenity she had ever felt crashed over her.

' _So_ this _is why the Temple is so special.'_

Through the Force the Temple was even more impressive; a thick aura of calm hung over it like a shroud, radiating peace in every direction. Isharia wanted to simply stand and bask in it as feeling more at ease than she had done in what felt like a lifetime. It was like its own entity within the Force, a great benevolent being stretching tendrils of Light out into the chaotic swirl of the city planet. An island of timeless stillness within an ocean of constantly fluctuating life. If she wasn't awed before, she definitely was now. Nowhere on Brion felt like this- she was pretty sure nowhere _anywhere_ felt like this. The all-encompassing serenity was a product of thousands of years of Jedi habitation and served as a reminder as to why the Jedi had endured as long as they had. The feeling here was just so...so eternal! As if it could weather anything.

But Isharia couldn't help but feel as though there was an edge to the Temple's presence, that in some way it felt...cold.

Isharia shoved the thought away to ponder on later.

Having noticed her slight misstep, Ranil came to a stop in the centre of the court and turned to her, a concerned frown on his face. "Are you alright?" he queried, eyes darting over her face to scan for any signs of unrest.

"Perfectly fine," she assured with a lazy shrug "it's just a bit...much."

"Much?" he queried his frown deepening and his eyes sharpening as he studied her more intently, "Much of what?"

"You know, the feeling, of all of this," she said, sweeping her arm in a large arc to encompass the massive form of the Temple.

Ranil's face shone with excitement as he latched on to that piece of information. "You sense something?" he asked in a rush, stepping closer to her in his eagerness for an answer. "Through the Force?" His hands flexed briefly at his sides as if to forcibly drag the response out of her while he leaned in closer, his rapt gaze drilling into her.

Isharia blinked at his rapid emotional U-turn; she pulled her eyebrows together in confusion and answered slowly, "Yes?"

At this he promptly straightened up, placing his hands on his hips he positively beamed at her, "Marvellous!" he exclaimed, eyes dancing. "I knew it was a good idea to bring you! You must write everything down in your report when we return to the university! Spare no detail, I want to know _all_ about it!" He quickly glanced down at his chrono before abruptly turning and striding off toward the Temple doors, "Come along, Miss Ashaki, we don't want be late!" he called over his shoulder.

Isharia raised a bemused eyebrow at his retreating figure before quickly jogging after him, coat flapping in the wind.

Approaching the doors, Isharia took the opportunity to study them in greater detail. Each one was covered in gloriously intricate carvings documenting scenes from the Order's illustrious past, though much of it had been lost to the ravages of time.

There were exquisite depictions of battles, where the violence and fury was almost real, and peaceful scenes of learning and teaching, of thousands of species coming together to serve the greater galaxy. The faces were so detailed that she could almost feel the presences of these ancient Jedi, their wisdom and power echoing out of their still forms and casting knowing, gentle eyes over modern Coruscant.

Every segment was a work of art, carved into the wood with such loving care and precise detail. Isharia let her eyes still on one particularly dramatic relief of an early battle with the Sith. Even through a carving the darkness evident in the Sith sent a chill down her spine. The madness inherent in him was almost tangible through the wood as the small figure opened his mouth in a silent scream of victory before moving to strike down an opposing Jedi. It was brutal and dark. A fitting reminder of the power of the Force and the danger of its misuse. Isharia shuddered and tore her gaze away from the frames.

They were just about to enter the Temple when the clipped coruscanti tones of one of the guards caught their attention. "Halt!" he called, his voice distorted though his white mask, "What is the purpose of your visit today?" He stood calm and serene, his posture balanced in parade rest.

"Oh! Greetings to you, Master Jedi! We're just here for our appointment today with Master K'Tari so if you could let us pass that would be splendid!" Ranil replied, grinning broadly at the impassive mask.

The guard looked unmoved by Ranil's enthusiasm, which wasn't really surprising, but she'd bet underneath that mask of his he was taken aback. Ranil had garnered a reputation back at the university for eccentricity. While quite a charming young doctor, his tendency towards particularly difficult projects and strange teaching methods had made the other academics reasonably wary. His lectures tended to be a confusing mix of odd facts and wildly irrelevant anecdotes that somehow ended with you knowing exactly what he was trying to teach in the first place. Although bizarre, his proclivity towards success in both his projects and his classes had earned him respect amongst the university staff.

It also helped that he was considered one of the most attractive of the academics, with his dark intelligent eyes and sculpted aristocratic features. Isharia knew many a student would be seething with jealousy about her trip out with him this morning.

' _They're welcome to it,'_ she mused, _'I'd much rather still be in bed and as far away from the Jedi as I can get.'_

The guard nodded in ascent and they were quickly admitted into the Temple. Once inside, they were directed through a series of sweeping public annexes filled with grand arched ceilings and ornate marble columns. Their path was complex, and they twisted and turned through immense stone halls until coming to a stop in a smaller, but no less imposing, hall to wait for Master K'Tari. The very same overwhelming sense of peace was even stronger inside the Temple, the feeling seemingly seeping out the walls.

The hall they had stopped in was a vast open space with broad transparisteel windows and pale marble walls, the sheer size made every footstep echo. The mixture of light and the stone was both humbling and invigorating in the same way a cathedral or ancient hall of learning was.

"Well, what do you think?" questioned Ranil gazing up at the ceiling, "Pretty spectacular, eh?"

"Indeed, Doctor," Isharia agreed faintly, her dark eyes wide and roving. _'By the Force, this place is amazing! I've never seen anything quite like it!'_ The Force was thick in the air here, bathing everything in soft radiance. It was a wondrous feeling, one unique to the Temple. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to savour it.

Ranil chuckled, "Well you seem suitably impressed. I'll ask Master K'Tari if they can spare a padawan to give you a tour." He shook his head, "Some of the rooms here...well, you've got to see them," he said, awe evident in his voice.

Isharia opened her eyes and nodded slowly in agreement, "I think I'd like that," she replied.

Inside she was reeling, what an _opportunity!_ A _personal_ tour of the Temple, by a Jedi no less! Not many could boast such an experience and as much as she wished to avoid Jedi attention this was not something Isharia could pass up. _'No wonder the Jedi are so highly regarded! Living in a place like_ this _,'_ she thought in wonder, _'if joining the Order wasn't required, I could just stay here forever.'_

"It's decided then," Ranil said nodding decisively, "when we've finished talking to Master K'Tari you can have a tour while I look over the labs." He smiled at her and shrugged, "It's not as though you really need to see them anyway, a lab's a lab wherever you go. The only difference here is that the scientists wear robes."

They waited in silence for a little until the sound of footsteps reverberating through the hall heralded the arrival of someone else. Through the entrance opposite the one they had come from appeared an aging female pantoran whose walk could only be described as a glide. She wore a floor sweeping beige dress under a long tan tunic with a dark bantha-hide tabard thrown over her shoulders. Around her narrow waist sat a series of cloth and bantha-hide belts in schemes of brown and crème holding the ensemble together. She was tall and lithe and moved with the unconscious grace of a trained dancer, her every step a perfect precursor to the next. Her lavender hair, lined with the faintest sheen of silver was pulled back in an elaborate series of braids which were secured at the base of her head in a tight, no-nonsense bun.

Upon noticing her, Ranil's face stretched into a wide grin, "Ah, Master K'Tari! How nice to see you again!" he exclaimed as he walked over to her and clasped her hands in his.

"It is good to see also, Dr Ranil," she replied smiling, the crow's feet around her eyes crinkling slightly as she did so.

Dr Ranil turned back to Isharia and beckoned her over with his hand, "May I introduce to you my student, Isharia Ashaki. She'll be joining us today," he said gesturing to her.

Stepping forward Isharia gave a slight bow, "It's an honour to meet you Master Jedi, my sincere thanks for allowing me to visit today."

The Jedi smiled and inclined her head in response, "It is no problem, child. We always enjoy new faces around the Temple, these are troubled times and many would appreciate the distraction."

Ranil nodded sagely, "Ah yes, the Naboo Crisis, tragic that. Although the young queen was very brave to speak out like that in the Senate, and call for a Vote of No Confidence too!" Pursing his lips and tapping them in thought Ranil questioned, "I heard the whole thing was being overseen by two Jedi, I trust they have managed to make progress?"

K'Tari sighed with weariness, "Unfortunately not, the Trade Federation do not seem to want to negotiate, it was all Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi could do to help the Queen escape with her life."

"Really? Terrible! Terrible all of it! Corporations and capitalists blockading planets! What next? A droid rebellion?"

The corners of K'Tari's mouth quirked up with amusement and her eyes glittered with mirth, "I should hope not, Doctor, the damage that would do would be immense."

"Yes, of course. Anyway, on to better and brighter things!" Ranil turned to Isharia and beamed, "What, my dear student, you are about to learn is the culmination of two years' worth of collaborative work between myself and Master K'Tari. Blood, sweat and tears have gone into it along with many late nights and hundreds of credits worth of caf."

Isharia returned his smile, "I eagerly await your instruction, Doctor."

"Splendid!"

Master K'Tari watched their exchange with humour shining in her bright gold eyes. "It's nice to see the young taking an interest our work, most of our initiates and padawans are more interested in lightsaber forms than anything that happens in the labs." She sighed, "Enough of my rambling, if you'd like to follow me, we'll head to my office first."

She led them through another series of grand corridors and halls, pointing out various points of interest as she went: statues of famous Jedi, routes to various gardens and meditation rooms, interesting architectural features and places where notable events occurred. As they continued onwards Isharia found it increasingly difficult to keep her jaw from scraping the floor. She had known already that the Temple was big, but knowing and experiencing are two different things and the Temple was _kriffing huge!_

' _How in Malachor do they navigate this place? It's like its own city!'_

"We live in the Temple from a very early age and for the most part we rarely stray from the more commonly used areas. There are whole regions of the Temple that no-one's visited in years," informed Master K'Tari from where she walked in front of them.

Isharia started, her eyes growing wide and then narrowing in suspicion, _'Did she just…'_

"No, I merely received the general impression of your thoughts through the Force, it's a rather common reaction for visitors," she said turning back to address Isharia. "Are you Force sensitive by any chance? Your Force signature is quite impressive," she enquired, a slight frown on her face.

Isharia immediately slammed up her shields and muted her Force presence until it was no more than a whisper. She flinched imperceptibly at the sudden loss of awareness.

' _Kriff, kriff, kriff! Forgot my shields, forgot my shields! Of all the karking things!'_ she thought, focusing on keeping her face as artfully blank as possible while her mind ran around in panicked circles.

"Why yes, she is," interjected Ranil, intrigued, "you can sense other Force sensitives?"

"Not always, it's more like there's a different intensity to the presence of Force sensitive that makes them easier to identify. They're….brighter, for want of a better word. The more potential you have for manipulating the Force, the brighter your signature."

Ranil rubbed his jaw in thought, "How fascinating. You know that's actually why I brought Miss Ashaki here today, we ran a midichlorian test upon her entry and found that her levels are around….."

' _Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it!'_

"…..14,000! We were amazed, let me tell you!"

' _No no no no no no NO! You karking son of a bantha! It was none of her business you, you you….Poodoo Head!'_

K'Tari stopped walking and her eyebrows rose in shock, deepening the lines in the blue skin of her forehead before her gold eyes sharpened and fastened onto Isharia's. "Fourteen…thousand. Are you sure, Doctor?" she asked frowning. Isharia could feel the light mental probe tiptoeing around the edge of her shielding and K'Tari's eyes narrowed further.

"Quite sure, we ran the test multiple times to check."

"Where are you from, child?" K'Tari asked, her tone booking no room evasion.

' _This is it, time to see how well my story holds up to Jedi.'_ Isharia took a mental deep breath and remembered the planet she had put on those falsified records. "Alderaan. I was born on Alderaan, in the Juran Mountains."

K'Tari frowned and looked troubled, "Alderaan is a Core World, as far as I know all children are tested at birth for Force sensitivity. With a count as high as yours, we should have found you."

' _Well the best lies are the truth, so here goes nothing.'_ Resting all her faith in her carefully prepared backstory Isharia replied, "My family is made up of rather isolated traditionalists and my grandmother sees doesn't really like Jedi. There was no way they were going to have me tested, their idea of a fulfilling life is staying at home and conforming to their expectations," the bitterness in her voice was evident as she said this, she laughed hollowly, "I had to run away to be able to study what I wanted."

' _Judgemental idiots, the lot of them,'_ she thought with scorn.

K'Tari looked taken aback before sorrow graced her features, "I am terribly sorry for bringing up such a painful subject, Miss Ashaki. I can't imagine what that must be like, I'm sure your parents understand why you chose this path and I have faith that such things are the Will of the Force."

Isharia looked away and fixed her eyes on the swirl of blues and greens in the marble column next to her, studying the waves and eddies in their pattern. "Yeah well, hard for them to be understanding and stuff seeing as they've been dead ten years," she commented darkly.

Immediately fragments long supressed began to swirl in her mind: the cloying sweet stench of blood and the almost beautiful way it stains white skin. A man's frightened voice shouting ( _"Elyssi, take Isharia and run!")_ and the tearstained face of a woman with beautiful white hair falling over her shoulders like a shroud ( _"Stay here, sweetheart. Be good for Mummy, never forget that we love you.")._ The overwhelming sense of having something missing, of something vital being _gone._ The gaping absence in her mind that spoke of _alone, all alone, alone in the house, alone in her mind. Where were her parents? She couldn't feel them. Why was the floor all red? It hadn't been this morning. What was that funny fleshy-looking object over by the door? And why did everything in her scream GONE GONE GONE_ GONE!

Isharia slapped those memories down.

' _Now is not the time for this!'_ she reprimanded herself, _'Focus on the present.'_

She took a moment to let the calming effect of the Temple ease her turbulent mind before turning her head back towards Ranil and K'Tari to find them both looking at her with equally worried eyes. Quickly checking her mental shields, she assessed them to make sure none of her inner turmoil had leaked through before working to even out her breathing and slow her racing heart.

"Are you alright, Miss Ashaki?" Ranil asked, the concern evident in his voice as he raised his hand to reach out to her, before thinking better of it and letting it fall limply back to his side.

"Yes, Doctor, quite alright," she answered, the smile she gave them not quite reaching her eyes. "Besides, weren't we going to discuss your new medical wonder?"

Ranil looked her over with a frown, his worry evident in the tight set of his jaw and the puckering of his brow. "If you say so…." he said carefully, sharing a glance with K'Tari. Folding her hands into the sleeves of her robes, the Jedi gave a small nod in reply to the unspoken question. Ranil heaved a great sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Alright then, let's continue."

They carried on the rest of the way to the turbolift in awkward silence, the air between the three of them was thick with unanswered questions, creating a tangible barrier to conversation. Isharia spent most of it cursing herself for being so careless, of all the places in the galaxy to lapse into an emotional meltdown it had to be _the Jedi Temple_. It was quite possibly the _worst_ place: being as every single sentient in the Temple apart from Ranil and a few others would be able to _feel_ the creeping tendrils of her distress as if they were their own. She had thought she was over this, that the mention of her deceased parents would no longer send her into an excruciating spiral of painfully realistic flashbacks, but no, apparently not. She didn't know if it was the palpable presence of the Force here at the Temple which had caused a stronger reaction than she'd had in years or something else, something darker.

Recently she had noticed a tainting in the Force, a sense of growing danger prowling through Coruscant like a hunting Krayt dragon. It was slowly sinking into all the dark places in the city, biding its time and stretching out its oily fingers. Unlike her grandmother, Isharia had no real precognition ability and was rarely gifted with visions, but even she could feel something was coming, waiting in the shadows until the right moment to strike. What surprised her however, was that the Jedi had given no indication that they felt it. From that she could only speculate that she could sense it because unlike the Jedi who had grown and trained in the beautifully Light atmosphere of the Temple; she had lived on Brion where the Dark was very real and its scars on Brion's past very visible.

After an exceedingly convoluted trek through a maze of cleanly minimalistic passages, they reached the turolift that would take them up to the Halls of Healing. The Halls of Healing and their subsidiaries were located just under the base of First Knowledge Spire in the south west corner of the Temple. They were home to the Jedi Medical Corps, one of the most highly trained and well stocked groups of medical practitioners in the galaxy.

During the turbolift ride, K'Tari finally broke the silence. "I would like to apologise for making you recall any distressing memories, Miss Ashaki," she said apologetically, her saffron eyes shining with compassion, "it was cruel of me."

Isharia sighed and gave the Jedi Master a small smile, "It's fine, you didn't know," she replied.

K'Tari returned her smile before looking her over with consideration, "If you don't mind me asking though…how did you come by such an unusual colouring?" she questioned.

Dr Ranil perked up then and turned to her to with curiosity on his face, "Yes I've wondered about that too, it is rather different."

That was one way of putting it, her colouring was one of the reasons why she had chosen Alderaan to be her home planet, because while rare, her features weren't unheard of. Brionians were a rather colourless race. They had little to no variation in the tint of their skin, the hue of their eyes or the shade of their hair; making them rather boring to look at really, a picture in greyscale. All Brionians possessed the same deathly pale skin with very little deviation between individuals and the same short, slender stature. Other than that, they all had one of two hair and eye colours- black or white. That was it. Any combination of the two was possible: white hair white eyes, black hair black eyes, black hair white eyes, so on and so forth. But the rich browns, vibrant greens and sunny blondes that the rest of the galaxy possessed in abundance? No. Because of their unique genetic heritage and isolationism, Brionians had never possessed the stunning variety of difference common in most species.

One of the first things that had struck Isharia after leaving Brion was the sheer amount of _colour_ in her fellow sentients, the galaxy became a veritable rainbow once you travelled a few parsecs from Brion. They were beautiful, all of them. While it was true from the perspective of offworlders Brionians could be deemed an uncommonly attractive race, it was a cold beauty: impersonal, unnatural and removed.

Isharia herself had inherited a typical Brionian appearance: she was lissom and fey in stature, but not tall, with narrow, slanted black eyes and long white hair. While passably pretty, even by Brionian standards, she was hardly a great beauty. Elyssi, her mother, had been the beautiful one. She'd held a warmth in her features that other Brionians lacked, a light inside her that softened the hardness of her edges and dulled the ice shards in her white eyes.

Isharia looked down, eyes closed in remembrance, "From my mother, the hair anyway," she murmured in low, sad tones.

' _You had such beautiful hair, Mum, like spun starlight,'_ she thought with grief, _'no one else could ever compare.'_

She opened her eyes and smiled sadly, "The eyes are my father's," she added tilting her head upwards to look at K'Tari.

The pantoran's face softened with sympathy and she laid a tender hand on Isharia's shoulder, "You will only ever have to look in the mirror to see them then. Those who love us never truly leave," she replied quietly, her voice ringing with a certainty that sang true through the Force.

Just as Isharia was about to reply the doors of the turbolift opened to reveal yet another grand pillared hall. K'Tari then threaded her hands back into the voluminous sleeves of her robes and smiled down at her, "Well, just around the corner now," she said kindly before striding purposefully away.

Ranil stepped to Isharia's side and gave her a brisk pat on the shoulder, "Off we go again!" he smiled cheerily and jogged off to catch up with Master K'Tari.

Isharia followed them out of the turbolift but hung back at a slower pace, letting her eyes drift between the mammoth statues that were dotted around the pillars. She slowed to a stop in front of one on the left side of the hall. Stood between two rose coloured pillars, it depicted a tall robed human man with one arm outstretched toward the heavens with an open palm. In his other hand, he held an old flimsi book. It was the statue of a scholar. That much was obvious between his skyward reach and possession of such a prominent symbol of learning. Isharia took a moment to admire the craftsmanship of his stern marble form before thinking back on her earlier conversation with the Jedi.

' _Stupid, stupid, stupid! You are such a fool, Isharia!'_ she scolded herself, scrunching her eyes tightly closed, _'Letting yourself get so worked up_ and _giving away_ more _information about yourself'_

If the Order took it upon themselves to find out why one Isharia Ashaki of Alderaan had never been tested for Force sensitivity they wouldn't get far. They'd soon come across proof that no such person existed, at least not from Alderaan anyway, and if that came out she'd be ruined. The university would find out she'd lied to them to gain admission and she'd be out faster than you could say Juran Mountains. Her thoughts raced by at hyperspeed, if that happened she'd be completely lost. She'd be alone in an unfamiliar world with nothing.

If the worst did occur though, she _refused_ to go back to Brion though, no matter how bad things got. She would NOT slink back with her tail between her legs and failure on her back to meet the icy smug eyes of everyone she knew. She would face the challenges alone, at least with her Hunter training she could become a bounty hunter if worse came to worst.

She relaxed the muscles around her eyes and took a deep calming breath, letting crisp, cold Temple air fill her lungs. It was decided then. The moment she got even the slightest _inkling_ that the Jedi were looking into her past she would disappear into the coruscanti underworld; it would be dangerous, true and could cost her life but it was a better alternative than the Jedi finding Brion.

Deep as she was in her own mind, she failed to notice a small form come barrelling down the hall until it crashed right into her and sent her tumbling to the floor, instinctively she wrapped herself around it and skilfully turned the fall into a roll. When she had come to a stop, she peered down to see what exactly she grabbed onto. The first thing she was greeted with was a pair of the clearest, brightest, bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were a truly magnificent colour; a crystalline shade akin to the colour of ice when it flash-freezes from seawater or the midday sky, just when the sun is at its highest. They were so singly stunning, she just sort of laid there staring at them for a few moments before the eyes blinked at her, calling her back to reality.

She swiftly turned her attention to the rest of the situation and was surprised to discover that what had come hurtling into her was in fact a small blond boy. They were both currently sprawled out rather gracelessly on the ground with him wrapped in the vice grip of her arms. Upon realising this, she hurriedly unlocked her arms from around his form and allowed him to quickly scramble upright. When he was fully stood up he promptly bent over in a tense bow.

" _Imsosorrymissididntseeyouthereimreallyreallysorry!"_ he squeaked out in a single breath before looking up to stare straight at her with those big baby blues.

Isharia's first thought when she saw him was ' _Ohmiforce, he's SO cute!'_ accompanied by an inner girlish squeal.

He really was adorable, stood up straight he probably only just reached above her hip height. This coupled with the wonderful sandy tone of his hair, the rich tan of his skin and the ridiculously earnest expression on his little face made him instantly irresistible to Isharia. He had the cutest little bowl cut hairstyle and was attired in a fashion similar to the Jedi, but the cloth was of noticeably lesser fabric and markedly more worn. This was certainly no Jedi youngling, she could tell that from his Force signature alone.

Now that, _that_ was something.

His presence shone out like a bright blaze of glory in the Force, wonderfully emotive and gloriously alive. It awed her to some degree, the sheer depth of the power and potential contained within his diminutive body. His presence had warmth of feeling to it that tended to be absent in most trained Force sensitives and felt like the purest brightest sunlight as it touched her own presence.

Isharia gradually clambered to her feet and brushed the dust from their tumble off her legs, seeing that the boy was still bent over and waiting for a response, she slid seamlessly into a crouch and sat back on the balls of her feet. Now that she was level with him, she could see the faint traces of fear swimming in the liquid depths of his eyes.

' _Why is he scared of my reaction?'_ she wondered with to assuage his fears somewhat, she smiled kindly at him and shrugged, "No harm, no foul,"

His eyes then roved rapidly back and forth over her face as though to make sure she was being truthful before, upon deciding she was being honest, his face split into big toothy grin that lit his features up like a Life Day tree. His Force signature too, got even brighter, if that were possible.

Isharia's heart practically melted.

' _Can I squeeze his cheeks?'_ she deliberated, _'No, I don't think he'd like that.'_ She considered him for a moment, _'I don't think the Temple would like it if I took him home with me either.'_ She sighed _'Oh well, maybe the next adorable child I come across.'_

"What's your name, kid?" she asked, keeping her voice light and friendly.

He opened his mouth to answer her, when from down the hall came…

"ANAKIN!"

The boy suddenly jolted upright like a strung bow and whirled around to face the voice. Isharia, still in her crouch leaned slightly to the side to gaze over his shoulder with interest. She was greeted by the sight of a much harried padawan striding toward them, his hurried steps causing his robe to flare out behind him and whip at his heels. Behind him was another Jedi, presumably his Master, following at a more sedate pace with his face set in an amused grin.

Isharia took the opportunity the brace her hands on her knees and rise slowly while still peering down the hall at the newcomers. Absently, she noted that Ranil and K'Tari were nowhere in sight; probably having turned off into another passage, leaving her in alone in the hall.

The padawan came to an abrupt stop in front of Anakin, placed his hands on his hips and looked down on the boy with his eyebrows drawn into a rather terrifying frown. In response, Anakin meekly lifted his chin to meet the padawan's stern gaze, wearing a sheepish smile as he shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot. It was then the elder Jedi caught up to them and moved to stand beside his padawan, folding his arms into the sleeves of his long brown robe.

The elder was a tall man with a wiry strength in his frame and light eyes that twinkled with good humour. He had long, greying brown hair and a leonine feel to his presence, giving him the impression of an amiable ageing predator. The padawan, by contrast, was shorter but also slightly stockier with an endearingly boyish face and striking golden red hair. His eyes were the colour of summer storms and his skin was smooth with youth.

"Well, Ani, it looks like you didn't get too far," the tall Jedi said with some amusement, eyes glittering. Turning his head to face his padawan he raised one eyebrow and chuckled, "Although you did almost manage to give Obi-Wan a heart attack, running off like that."

Obi-Wan looked up from Anakin toward his Master and gave him a dry look with his own eyebrow raised in return, "And you were not worried too, Master?"

The Master simply gave an enigmatic smile and replied, "Ah, but I knew we would catch up with young Anakin, have a little faith, my young padawan."

Obi-Wan gave his Master an exasperated look which only caused the elder man's smile to widen. Isharia, who had been watching their exchange amused, discretely turned her laugh into a cough and hid it behind her hand. Upon noticing, the taller Jedi's smile turned into a full-blown grin and he looked down at Anakin.

"Why did you run off, Ani?" he enquired, peering at the boy who was nervously rocking backwards and forwards on his heels.

At this Anakin's eyes lit up with renewed enthusiasm, "Obi-Wan explained to me what a fountain was and then said that there's a room with _a thousand of them_ here!" he exclaimed gesturing wildly. "I thought there's no way the Temple has _that_ much water, _especially_ not for something like _fountains_ ," he said, scrunching his little nose in slight derision, "but then some other Jedi agreed and said it was in this direction and I just _had_ to see it!" he added excitedly.

' _Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, CUTE!'_ Isharia thought, her inner girly girl squealing over Anakin's adorable eagerness. _'The Jedi won't be_ that _mad surely, if I kidnap him. Taking one child off their hands? I'd be doing them a favour.'_

The Master's brow puckered in thought as he looked at Anakin in consideration, "Ah yes, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, being from a desert planet you would want to see that wouldn't you?" he said rubbing his chin. Raising his eyes to look at Isharia he added, "But that doesn't explain your new friend here."

Anakin looked down again and began playing with his sleeve, "Well _ikindofranintoherandknockedherover_ ," he exhaled in a rush. "But it's fine!" he quickly finished and then turned his head to look back at Isharia, blue eyes shining, "At least I think it is?"

Isharia really should have been a puddle of goo by now, the way she simply melted at that look, _'That face should be illegal,'_ she thought with a degree of awe, _'or bottled, at least.'_

She smiled at him, "Hey, I said it was okay, didn't I?" she said with a wink.

He beamed back at her, his face shining like the rays of the sun.

It was now official, she was in love with that child.

Some of her thoughts must've been showing on her face as the Jedi Master shot her a knowing look, eyes bright with mirth. He then glanced round at all three of them before asking, "All settled then?" Obi-Wan sighed, Anakin nodded happily and Isharia inclined her head in agreement.

Directing his attention back toward Isharia he said, "Now that that's all done, allow me to introduce myself. I am Master Qui Gon Jinn, this is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," here he gestured toward the red haired man who gave a slight bow, "and this is Anakin Skywalker, of Tatooine," at this he placed both his hands on Anakin's shoulders, who looked up at her with another hundred-watt grin.

Instantly her mood plummeted and she took in Anakin's smiling face, _'Skywalker, that poor child,_ ' she thought with some horror and a deep weariness. Suddenly his worn clothes made a lot more sense and Isharia could have cried for him. Skywalker was a slave name, an ancient one, but a slave name no less.

But the others, she recognised those names too and frowned, _'Where do I know those names from?'_ she turned them over in her mind a few times before: _'Of course! The Jedi form the Naboo Crisis!'_ She looked them over again, _'But when did they get the chance to pick up a slave boy from Tatooine?'_ Mentally shrugging, she discarded the thought as unimportant.

She stuck her hand out and smiled, "Isharia Ashaki, student at the First Republic Medical Academy."

It was Obi-Wan who reached over to shake her hand, but the moment he did, an indescribable jolt of….something shot down her spine like a lightning bolt. Her eyes flew to his as his grip suddenly tightened on her hand. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly, _'I…I…know you…'_ There was something incredibly familiar about his presence, like a beloved dream she'd into his slate coloured eyes she wondered if he too felt the same strange sense of recognition. _'But where from? I've never met a Jedi before today…'_

Apparently, she'd been staring at him far too intently for far too long as his face had started to flush pink under her scrutiny. She quickly let go off his hand and, feeling the blood rush to her own cheeks, turned her head to the side. _'He obviously doesn't have much experience with girls,'_ she thought with humour. She gave him a sidelong glance, _'Shame he's a Jedi really,'_ she sighed, _'he does have such nice eyes and the colour of his hair is quite lovely.'_

In the meantime, Qui Gon had raised his eyebrows and was giving his padawan a rather bemused look which Obi-Wan returned with a scowl. Anakin, on the other hand, had evidently found the exchange quite amusing and was smirking mischievously, his cornflower-blue eyes darting between Obi-Wan and Isharia.

After a silent exchange between master and apprentice, Qui Gon sighed and turned back to Isharia, "So what brings you to the Temple today, Miss Ashaki?" he queried politely.

Isharia tilted her head up to meet Qui Gon's intelligent gaze and answered, "I'm here to talk to Master K'Tari about the joint research project between the Order and the university, the one about the usage of midichlorians in medicine," she paused to give a wry smile, "I _did_ come with my professor-"

"Miss Ashaki!"

' _Speak of the Sith.'_

She looked through the gap between Qui Gon and Obi-Wan to see Dr Ranil jogging down the hall toward them with a vaguely disgruntled K'Tari at his heels. He stopped in front of her, braced himself on his knees panting and looked up to her, "We thought we'd lost you!"

Isharia gave the doctor an embarrassed smile and reached up to scratch the back of her head awkwardly, "I'm sorry, doctor, I got distracted by the statues and then bumped into Anakin, Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi here," she apologised while gesturing to Anakin and the Jedi in turn. "We were just about to discuss the project when-"

"Really?" he interrupted, standing abruptly up, "you're interested?" his eyes lit up with happiness.

Qui Gon gave a half shrug and smiled at Ranil, "Well, from what Miss Ashaki just said, it sounds fascinating."

"Wonderful! I'll tell you all about it!" he exclaimed animatedly, bringing his hands together, "It started out as just a thought between myself and one of my colleagues whilst we were in the field and I decided 'why not?' From there it's been a-"

"Dr Ranil!" Master K'Tari's frustrated tones cut him off mid-flow. The pantoran Jedi came and placed a hand on Ranil's shoulder and nodded toward Isharia, "Now that we've found Miss Ashaki, we really must be going," she said in a way a parent does when placating an energetic child.

' _Seems her tolerance for the doctor's antics has been exceeded for the day,'_ Isharia thought drolly.

Ranil looked to K'Tari and upon seeing that her expression held no room for argument, sighed. "Another time then. Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, young Anakin," he said bowing to each of them. He caught Isharia's gaze and said, "Come along, Miss Ashaki, were wasting daylight here," and then strode off the way he came.

Master K'Tari gave Qui Gon an apologetic look before following Ranil, leaving Isharia alone with the two Jedi and Anakin once more. She gave each of them a smile and couldn't resist ruffling Anakin's hair before saying good-bye, "It was lovely to meet you all, but I should probably get going."

Qui Gon returned her smile, "Us too, Miss Ashaki, enjoy your time at the Temple," he said with a wave.

Isharia then jogged off to catch up with Ranil and K'Tari. Just as she was rounding the corner at the end of the hall she heard:

"She was nice, wasn't she, Mister Qui Gon?"

"Yes, Ani, quite friendly,"

Anakin hummed in agreement, "Mm hm, and pretty too,"

"Yes, pretty too. Obi-Wan, you thought so as well?"

"Her features were aesthetically pleasing, yes."

"It's okay, Obi-Wan, she thought you were pretty as well," Anakin chimed

There was the sound of embarrassed spluttering followed by joyous peals of laughter.

' _Obi-Wan Kenobi, huh? I'll remember you,"_ Isharia thought with a secretive smile as she walked away.


	2. Brion I

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Brion I

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars**

* * *

 _The first time you notice him you are four years old._

 _Well, four and a half._

 _It's your grandmother's birthday and the ballroom of Sing'dai Palace is lit with the luminescence of a hundred ribbons of white plasma, threading through the polished black stone in great glowing rivers._

 _The ballroom is massive, one of the largest rooms in the entire palace, superseded only by the throne room and its immense obsidian walls and high vaulted ceiling soar above your head. You stare up, captivated by it, awed by its simplistic splendour and dazzled by the huge crystal in the ceiling that sends brilliant fractals of light dancing below._

 _It's a beautiful space: all mirrorlike black stone and blinding light, bright despite the dark, and the largeness means that the music echoes; a haunting melody of hidden noise that ensnares your senses._

 _It's sleek, sharp and brilliant._

 _You hate it._

 _You hate the overbearing height of the walls, and how they make your small form even smaller. You hate the lack of windows, and how it makes you feel increasingly like a trapped tarash fly, just waiting to be squashed. You hate the silly dress your mummy put you in, and how the layers of diaphanous cloth tangle around your little legs every time you try to move. But most of all, you hate the people._

 _The ballroom is filled with crème de la crème of Brionian society: the hereditary lords, the city governors, the Hunter families and the rest of your own family. You dislike all of them with the fervour only a child can. The women are svelte and haughty, dressed in their flowing gowns of gauzy silk chiffon and the men imposing in their high-necked court coats; a monochromatic picture with sparse splashes of coloured gems draped over poised forms. They look at you, the small child in their midst, with diamond sharp eyes and hard unforgiving faces laced with disapproval. Even the other children stand straight and cold, their gazes placid and emotionless; you decided when you got here there was no point even_ trying _to talk to them._

 _You're bored out of your childish mind and antsy with barely suppressed energy. You want to run, dance and play but your mummy told you before leaving home that you had to be on your_ Very Best Behaviour _and that your grandmother_ Wouldn't Tolerate It _if you were not. It frustrates you, why do you have to be here anyway? Your new Moon Day dolls are_ much _more interesting than this and it's not as though Grandmother would miss your presence, she's scary and no matter what Mummy says you_ know _she doesn't like you._

 _You follow your mummy and daddy around like a stray kvang pup, trying not to notice as the smile on Mummy's face becomes increasingly strained and set of Daddy's shoulders becomes steadily stiffer with each round of boring adult conversation._

 _They hate it too, you realise_

 _You've just about had enough of all this dull standing around, and you're about to tell your parents_ exactly _what you think of it when you see your grandmother gliding purposefully toward you._

 _The Queen of Brion is resplendent tonight, garbed in a modest gown of the finest white silk and her snowy hair adorned with a circlet of black opals. As she moves, her dress drifts around her in gossamer waves and the gems of her jewels shine in the light. But as always, it is her eyes that catch your attention most; they flash like ice daggers under the plasma glow and spear with their intensity, so alike your mummy's in their colour and shape but so different in their feel._

 _As she walks the other people part around her in flowing ripples of movement, bowing their heads in deference as they go. She comes to a stop in front of your mummy, completely ignoring Daddy as per usual, her frosty eyes staring straight into their warmer replica._

" _You came," she says, her voice crisp and sharp despite her age._

" _Of course, Mother," Mummy replies, her face set in a tense smile._

 _Your grandmother's gaze drifts over to you and she looks down on you with stony intensity, you can't help but wriggle nervously under her scrutiny. As she catches your anxious twitch her eyes narrow, the lines on her aged face making the look even fiercer._

" _Control your offspring," she snaps, her eyes flicking back to your mummy's._

 _Mummy stiffens and replies tightly, smile unwavering "She's only four, Mother."_

 _Your grandmother snorts and says, "It's unbecoming for any Brionian child to be so free with their actions. But then again, I'd expect such, coming from a child raised by you and your worthless husband. Neither of you show any regard for poise and composure."_

 _You watch timidly from your daddy's side as the air around the three of them grows more strained and the tension becomes thick like a cord. You don't quite understand exactly what's going on, but from the cold dismissal on your grandmother's face, the tightly reigned fury on your mummy's and the frosty rage in your daddy's eyes you can tell it's bad._ This _is why you don't like family gatherings. You may be young but even you can sense the underlying hostility in every interaction. It's not quite so bad with your daddy's family, or even your mummy's sisters, but that hidden edge of disapproval is still there. You don't understand why, your mummy is the bestest, nicest mummy in all of Brion and your daddy gives the greatest hugs, you just don't get what everyone else finds so wrong about them. It isn't even just your family, you find the same cold stare in the eyes of everyone you meet, even your agemates!_

" _Your Majesty," your daddy replies, "we understand if you have concerns with the way we're raising Isharia, but she is our daughter and we will raise her how we see fit," his face as impenetrable as stone._

 _Your grandmother looks back at you with her jagged white orbs, you shrink back slightly to hide behind your daddy's leg and stare up at her with wide, fearful eyes._

" _See that she doesn't become an embarrassment to this family," she says tersely before moving on to the next set of guests._

 _Mummy's eyes follow her as she walks away, a dark storm brewing in their depths. Sensing his wife's anger, Daddy lays a comforting hand on the small of her back and Mummy sighs, slumping like a puppet with cut strings. With the quiet rage drained out of her she leans into your daddy, prompting yet more disapproving looks from the guests in the vicinity._

 _They make quite a picture, your parents. Mummy with her perfectly proportioned, perfectly symmetrical features and her stunning moonlight hair all wrapped up in layers of snowfall silk. Daddy standing tall, robed in head to toe in black, his onyx eyes glittering with intelligence and his white hair perfectly coiffed. Together they look like something out of a fairy-tale: the beautiful princess and her strong, handsome prince. You can't help but be proud of the way they shine._

 _It's while you're contemplating them that it happens._

 _You're still cowering behind your daddy's trouser leg when just there, at the corner of your senses, you feel something. A presence in the energy of the world (you'll later come to know it as the Force), a person, but no one you recognise. It sort of_ itches _at your brain, tugging at the edge of your mind with an insistent pull. It's not the warmth-love-sunshine of your mummy's presence, nor is it the laughter-safety-strength of your daddy's, or even that polished ice of the rest of your people, humming away at the back of your mind, but it's there all the same. You can feel it coming from the back corner of the ballroom so you turn your head to peer in that direction, your petite face scrunching in concentration. You instinctively stretch out your mind and, focusing your very hardest, you try to get a better sense of it._

 _When you finally achieve the necessary state of mind to properly study the presence, a sort of half meditational trance, the first thing that hits you is sadness. A heart-breaking, crippling, aching_ sadness _. You feel as though you ought to cry but you can't, being so young you simply don't have the emotional range or experience to process such raw, intense anguish. It's as deep as a crevasse and as vast as the ice sheets that cover Brion, the sort of torment that comes with having everything you love murdered in front of you or spending your entire life building something, only for it to be utterly useless in the end and watching it crumble. You want to curl up in a ball and scream in utter_ agony _, to lock yourself away from everyone and simply fade. The_ shame _that accompanies the sadness is_ agonising, _a horrible symphony of intense guilt and a repeating litany of_ MyFaultMyFaultMYFAULT! _It's painful, horrifying, lonely and desolate. So utterly lonely that it feels as though you've been left out on the ice to die, but it doesn't matter: you_ deserve _it._

 _You can feel your breathing speed up and deepen as you start to hyperventilate on reflex. Your eyes water with unshed tears and your heart clenches painfully in your chest as the emotion transmits itself over the weak link you have unknowingly forged. Your parents haven't noticed, their attention has been taken by yet another pretentious nobleman and his dull conversation. As your vison starts to blacken around the edges, you get the strangest sensation of something coarse and grainy on your skin. The particulates rub at your face and arms, rough and scouring, pulled along but some non-existent wind that whips at your body. There is heat too: an intense, dry heat so unlike anything found on eternally frozen Brion. And finally, just before you completely lose consciousness, a flash of two burning suns blazing from their zenith._

-*8*-

 _The first thing you notice when you come to is that you are no longer at the palace. The towering black walls have been replaced by your own clean white ones and the vaulted ceiling of the palace by the high flat one of your own bedroom. The light no longer comes from plasma streams but from the large holo-window on your right wall; currently set to show the ground level of an extinct forest at sunrise, complete with artificial birdsong._

 _You raise your head slightly from your sumptuous taki-taki down pillow to notice your daddy asleep on the pristine cushion of your window-side ledge. He's still dressed in his palace formal-wear, the velvet of his coat creased and open to show his starched silk shirt, perfect hair mussed by sleep._

 _You briefly contemplate waking him to tell him about the presence, but decide not to. Your parents have had enough stress tonight –they did have to deal with Grandmother- and you don't want to add more worry to their shoulders. Tomorrow, you nod to yourself, you'll tell them tomorrow. You lay your head back down on your pillow, snuggle up tight in your duvet and drift off back to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that your daddy is there with you._

-*8*-

 _You are five when you truly learn about the Force for the first time._

 _It's been seven months since the incident at the palace. You'd woken up the next day to the view of the soaring skytowers of Sing'dai gleaming in the midday sun through your window. Reluctantly hauling yourself from the cosy cocoon you had made from of your bedding, you'd trudged half-asleep through the mirage-door to your room and on to the mezzanine balcony that overlooked the main space of your family's penthouse. Stopping to face the apartment's expansive holo-windows, you had rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and yawned loudly, observing as thousands of repulsor-lift vehicles sped along on the numerous skylanes that dotted the city._

" _HAIS, what time is it?" you'd mumbled tiredly as you stretched your arms out above your head._

" _Approximately one-fifteen in the afternoon, Mistress Isharia," had come the disembodied, vaguely female voice of your family's AI unit._

"Th-th-thaaaanks _," you'd replied yawning._

 _You'd padded slowly with heavy feet down the spiral staircase to your family's living area and meandered past the white square arch sofa to the kitchen section. Scratching your fuzzy bedhead, you'd clambered up one of the stools sat at the granite top island and plonked yourself down on the black leather cushioning. You had watched as opposite you, your mummy diced dasha roots with practised precision before throwing them into a pan of boiling water sat on the hob, her elegant hands quick and efficient. Her long platinum hair had been pulled back in a messy bun and an ash coloured top hung scruffily off one shoulder. She had looked up as you sat down and laid down the knife._

" _Oh good, you're awake. I was just about to have HAIS wake you up," she'd said frowning worriedly, "how are you feeling?"_

" _M'tired," you'd slurred, before laying your head on your arms._

 _Mummy's frown had deepened as she'd observed you, she'd wiped her hands on the tea towel hanging from the cupboard door under the worktop and walked around the island to sit on the stool beside you. You turned your head to look at her and blinked wearily._

" _Isharia, what happened last night at the palace?" she'd asked, her voice tinged with concern._

 _You had thought back on the presence from the night before. The unbearable sadness of it and the soul crushing loneliness. About how it had made you feel, briefly, as if you were the last member of dying species that you personally destroyed. About the way its powerful emotions had made your body respond as if they were its own, shortening your breath and wetting your eyes. But most of all you had thought about how no one else, not even your parents, had sensed it. This confused you, Mummy and Daddy were_ really _smart and they_ should _have noticed the presence. In an uncharacteristic bout of childish selfishness, you had decided to keep the presence to yourself, it was_ your _thing; if no one had else had felt its overwhelming emotions, then they obviously weren't meant to know about it._

 _You'd turned you head back so that your forehead rested on your arms again, "Nothing, I was just really, really hot and dizzy," you'd answered, voice muffled by the granite surface._

 _Mummy had raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "Really?"_

" _Uh huh," you'd nodded at the worktop, "and bored, Grandmother throws the most boringest parties_ ever _,_ no one _was having fun."_

 _Your mummy had smiled sardonically, "Well my mother doesn't exactly believe in fun. Anyway, don't change the subject. Your father's taking you to the doctor when he gets home from work."_

 _You'd sat up abruptly and snapped your gaze to Mummy's, "Doctor? I don't need a doctor! I'm_ fine."

" _Not if you're fainting at palace parties you're not. You're going to the doctor and that's final."_

" _But I don't_ want _to go to the doctor!" you'd whined in that annoying tone that all children are innately gifted with._

" _Don't you use that tone with me, young lady! There are plenty of other children that would appreciate your new dolls if you don't want to visit the doctor!"_ _Mummy had scolded, eyebrows pulled together and her voice firm._

 _Your eyes had gone wide and panicked, your_ new _dolls, the ones you got for Moon Day? "No! You can't! I haven't even played with them yet!" you'd replied hastily, eyes darting over your mummy's face to see if she was serious._

 _She'd raised both eyebrows at you, "Oh, I can't can I?"_

 _And so, after multiple trips to various doctors and a plethora medical facilities around the city with no conclusive results, the subject of your fainting spell at the palace was dropped. However, you still catch Mummy and Daddy eyeing you with anxious concern from time to time, as if just waiting for you to suddenly collapse again._

 _The presence, also has reappeared from time to time, drifting in at the edge of your awareness with seemingly no pattern to its sporadic visits. It still sends awful waves of sorrow and self-hatred throbbing through your body every time you try to touch it with your mind, sometimes it's even caused you to burst into uncontrollable floods of tears when it catches you unaware. Nevertheless, you have acclimatised enough to it by now to tentatively probe at it with your fledgling abilities, and as unrefined as those attempts are, you have manged to gain a sense that the presence is decidedly male._

 _Recently you began to try to communicate back, poking and prodding lightly at the delicate psychic fibre of your connection, pushing through the happiest thoughts you can muster in a desperate attempt to stop him from feeling so_ sad _. You send all sorts of things: the quiet joy and feeling of love that comes from being with your parents, the bright sparkle happiness of watching Liberation Day fireworks from your daddy's shoulders and the innocent thrill of pride you get from learning something new. None of it works though, despite all your effort the Sad Man stays sad._

 _You are contemplating the Sad Man's happiness when your mummy comes to find you. You'd retreated upstairs earlier to moongaze on the rooftop garden of your skytower, an activity you rarely get to do due to the fierce and angry snowstorms that frequently spiral across the planet's surface._

 _The garden itself is a small oasis of nature amongst the towering leviathans of durasteel and permacrete that dominate Sing'dai, one of the few places where flora is allowed to thrive. It winds like a green snake around the edge of the building, coiling upwards with scales of carefully maintained flowerbeds in every hue and small streams of crystal clear water that flow lazily down its body. You lie on the ground in the cordoned off area that belongs exclusively to your family; revelling in the feeling of soft spongy grass and loamy soil on your skin, your wild white hair splayed out around you like a fan. Nearby, a spherical water feature made of a polished grey stone gurgles happily into the night and a gentle artificial breeze caresses the flower petals._

 _It's a clear night tonight and the four moons of Brion shine hazily through the giant thermo-reg shields that encapsulate the city. Dormai'at, the largest, rises high to the north and glows a sickly yellow caused by the sulphurous clouds that cover its atmosphere. The moon, much like Brion, is mostly uninhabitable with any life living there having had to adapt or die long ago._

 _You gaze aimlessly up into the heavens, knowing by now that the millions of tiny globes of light down in the city ruin all your chances of seeing stars in the sky. You've never seen the stars. Almost no Brionian has. Those tiny pinpricks of light are only visible from outside the city, where the landscape is a frozen wasteland, magnificent in its desolation. You dream that one day you will be able to stand amidst those fields of ice, and gaze upwards to see the patchwork sky. Instinctively, you know that the Sad Man is out there too, on a distant planet orbiting a lonely star; his pain is just too real for you to have made him up and the flashes of heat and arid planes that come with his presence are just too foreign to be anywhere on Brion._

 _Mummy creeps up and lays soundlessly down beside you, you curl up into her side and let the comforting warmth of her body envelop you. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer and lays her chin on your head._

" _The moons are bright tonight," she says hushed, "you know when I was your age I was constantly pestering my mother for one of the suites at the palace with a balcony, so I could watch them at night." She laughs softy under her breath, "She would always refuse and tell me that there is nothing out there in the sky that could possibly interest me, my place was on Brion and not up in the stars."_

 _You turn your head up to look at your mummy's face, "You've see the stars?" you ask awed._

 _She sighs down at you, "No, but someday I will, hopefully." She directs her eyes back up to the skies and hums quietly, "You start school soon, with you at one of the academies and your father at work I don't know what I'm going to do with myself during the day." She grins widely up at the moons, "Maybe I'll enter the racer circuits again, like I did as a teenager, that'll surely horrify your grandmother," says Mummy, her voice coated with rebellious humour._

 _You frown up at the brown orb of Larasho with its frozen methane seas and ask, "Why I am going to one of the academies and not normal school?"_

 _Mummy pauses, "I never explained it to you, did I?" she murmurs. She jostles you gently so the two of you are laying in a more comfortable position before beginning, "You remember the feeling on Liberation Day? When Mother connects Brion?" she asks you._

 _You nod your head. Obviously, Liberation Day is the best day of the year, and the Moment of Oneness is one of the best parts!_

" _That feeling, my dear, is caused by something we call the Force. You, like all Brionians, have the ability to connect to it, just stronger than most, which is why you're going to an academy."_

" _What's the Force?"_

 _She chuckles quietly and looks down at you with raised eyebrows, "Now isn't that the question! People much smarter than you or I have been trying to answer that for thousands of years!" She sighs gently and looks back to the heavens, "The short answer is no one knows, and you're too young for me to go into the particulars of Force philosophy and its study. But what I can tell you is the generally accepted view of it."_

 _And so there, under the invisible stars and the shining moons, you get your first glimpse of the wider universe. Your mummy tells you in hushed tones that the Force is a massive field of energy that connects everything that exists everywhere and anytime in an enormous web that spans the entire universe. She tells you that it binds all living things in the galaxy together, the good and the bad; that all is one and one is all through the Force._

 _She goes on to tell you of the Balthurians, your distant ancestors, the extinct native humanoids of Brion and how once upon a time they built their entire civilisation on the study of the Force. How all of them truly_ were _one through the Force, all of their minds linked together in a massive psychic network spanning from young to old, and how this led to planetary harmony and the absence of any real violence. Hard to hurt someone when their pain is literally yours, she says. She tells you of how it is the Force traditions of their people that survive today on Brion._

 _She tells you of the Balance, the_ Illumin'ar _, a state in the Force where all aspects of it co-exist in complete harmony, no one part more prevalent than the other. She tells you of the_ Kim'ar _and the_ Ishk'ar _: the Light and Dark and to remember that Light and Dark don't mean Good and Evil, merely opposing sides of the same thing and that for the sake of the galaxy they must always exist in_ Illumin'ar _: in Balance._

 _She tells you that this is why you are going to an academy, not normal school. That you have been given a gift and that you need to learn to control it, to keep yourself balanced. She lets you know that all Brionians have the same gift in some capacity, but less are strong enough to truly feel it. That all her family have been powerful, which is why they've been the ruling dynasty for so long and so it was expected that you would too, even if Daddy's family were all Force weak._

 _All this talk of mystic energy fields and psychic links makes you think of the Sad Man. About how he's there but he's not; an ethereal unreality, existing between the threads of your world, perceived only by you. You come to the realisation that you_ must _be feeling him through the Force, that this strange energy field has inexplicably given you access to a stranger's state of mind. But where is he from? When is he from? And why you? You're only five, what are you supposed to do? You can't even get the most meagre attempts at communication through to him!_

 _You decide to ponder on it more later, there are more immediate matters to attend to, like snuggling up to Mummy. You lay together in companionable silence, enjoying the muted hum of the city and pleasant glow of the moons. You can feel your eyelids grow heavy and begin to droop as the minutes pass, it isn't long before your small body succumbs and you drift off to sleep._

-*8*-

 _You are almost six when you start school._

 _You are going to be attending Central Sing'dai Force Academy in a sprawling skytower complex in the heart of the city. You have such high hopes for it, a place where you can make friends and learn to do cool stuff with your burgeoning Force powers. But as you soon as your family turn up for the entrance ceremony those hopes are dashed._

 _It's the same as everywhere else, cold dismissive gazes from impassive black and white eyes greet you. The three of you are blatantly ignored by everyone in that entrance hall, even the children receive you with utter apathy. Mummy and Daddy give the same treatment back, with their heads held high and stony contempt in their eyes as they stride through the hall with you between them, half running to keep up with their long steps._

 _Whoever had designed the academy had obviously taken inspiration from the palace: the walls are the same mirrorlike black, but durasteel not stone (and of noticeably lesser quality). The lower halves of the walls are shot through with bright blue plasma arranged to mimic the patterns on a circuit board while upper halves contain long, wide windows set to show the white sand and aqua waters of a tropical beach._

 _You rock nervously back and forward on your heels, fiddling with the hem of your pretty black dress and glancing around the room anxiously at the children that will soon be your classmates. Daddy, noticing your uncertainty, reaches down to ruffle your hair and grins widely when you puff up like an angry kizzi and glare up at him while trying to flatten it._

 _Mummy rolls her eyes, "Try and control yourself, Devron," she sighs exasperated._

 _Daddy flashes her a wicked smirk and winks at you, "You sounded just like your mother then, Elyssi," he replies._

 _Mummy shoots him a poisonous look in response._

 _You giggle at their antics, feeling mildly less apprehensive now watching your parents bicker. They've really gone all out for this, Mummy's hair is pulled back into a sleek, high bun and her eyes darkened to accentuate the clear white of her irises. Her dress is beautiful, it wraps around her body in a sheath of black silk and a pair of long gloves cover her arms. Her neck is encircled by set of diamond encrusted neck rings and on her right hand, a single platinum ring shines._

 _Daddy looks handsome in a long, high-collared white jacket and fitted white trousers, the buttons and cuffs glinting with sapphires. His hair is neatly slicked back, his black eyes stand out and his lips are quirked up in a ghost of a smile. They look fairly similar to all the other parents, Brionian formal attire is never any colour other than black or white, but they wear it with a languid grace and easiness that speaks of money and influence: an obvious but unarrogant confidence that makes them stand out._

 _You look around the room once more, taking in the blank faces of the other children with a sense of foreboding churning in your gut. You so_ desperately _want to make friends here, you've never really been exposed to others of your age before, being as your cousins live over in Yazu'ai on the other side of the planet. However, eyeing their tightly controlled features tells you that that is looking to be more and more unlikely. While the children haven't mastered the utter stillness and discipline of their parents, their faces are just as barren of emotion and their muted presences almost as restrained._

 _You feel tense and uneasy; your parents have never taught you the emotional control that other Brionian younglings seem to intrinsically show. Instead, they have always encouraged you to smile freely and cry whenever the need to comes, to run around and laugh with abandon, to rage and scream without concern (granted the last one usually ends with you confined to a corner and all your toys confiscated). Unlike other adults, they seem to almost treasure your emotional responses, not scold and deride them as your grandmother does, and they aren't afraid to answer in kind._

 _It has always seemed perfectly natural to you, to emote. To express yourself through the flex and relax of the muscles in your face and the light in your eyes. Your very first memories are of your parent's glowing smiles and the warm, love-filled caresses of their minds. The younglings here look as though they don't even know what a smile is, let alone how to give one._

 _You flinch slightly as a smartly dressed woman with long black hair turns her frozen black eyes on you and looks at you as if you personally offend her before pulling her young son toward her side. You feel tears well up in your eyes, wet and salty, as you comprehend the reality of the thirteen long friendless years in front of you; outcast as the academy pariah, ignored and alone._ It isn't fair! _You feel like raging, these people have never met you before, never even spoken to you, how_ dare _they treat you with such scorn! You suddenly understand why Mummy barely speaks to anyone outside your little family, why Daddy always looks so tired and angry after coming home from work if this is the way they're always treated._

 _A wave of black fury wells within your heart, icy cold and precise._ They _are the odd ones,_ they _deserve the scorn! Anger dances within your soul at the thought of spending the foreseeable future surrounded by these people. These parodies of the sentient state, marble sculptures brought to life. A sense of complete isolation washes over you, compounded by the sudden appearance of the Sad Man at the edge of your senses, his own desolation bolstering yours. Your two presences swirl as one, your emotions playing together in a discordant melody of loneliness._

 _It is there in that dark, sterile entrance hall you learn something, with rage in your young heart and the pain of a man with the galaxy on his shoulders in your growing soul._

 _For the first time, at five years old you, you learn what it means to_ hate.

-*8*-

 _After that the entrance ceremony flies by, a haze of meaningless pageantry and forced politeness on the behalf of others toward your family. Your mummy is, after all, still their princess and that automatically makes you and Daddy of higher status than them. They aren't of the noble classes so any comments directed towards your family have to be of the utmost courtesy, not the biting backhandedness of palace nobles and your grandmother._

 _You pay attention to none of it._

 _The subdued and painfully courteous meet-and-greet is of no interest to you, nor is the rambling address of an older looking man in sharp formal attire you assume to be the headmaster. It's not as if you can understand it anyway, he uses_ far _too many long words and even Mummy and Daddy seem to be having trouble focusing. No, you are far too interested in the chaotic flurry of new emotions churning within you and in separating yourself from the Sad Man who appears to be intent on sicking around. Your presences have become dangerously intertwined, and while you may know absolutely nothing about the Force, you know enough to know that the level of connectivity_ _between the two of you at the moment is bad. Your auras seem to be resonating together like strings, one amplifying the other and tangling them together increasingly complex knots._

 _The bond itself is almost a tangible thing now, a thin woven cord rather than the fragile, ethereal yarn it was before. The psychic threads of your connection have been plaited together by your shared emotional feedback, causing the fibres to strengthen and the link to firm. You feel your stomach clench with worry. You have no idea who this man is or even if he's real, he could be a made-up apparition of your mind for all you know. The only other people you have_ anything _comparable with are your parents;_ their _bonds are braided golden ropes within your consciousness, tying the three of you together in a metaphysical triumvirate. Your connection with the Sad Man, on the other hand, shines a dull, metallic silver in your mind's eye, weak and sad but with the potential to be something brilliant. You can't help but feel the smallest ray of happiness when perusing the bond, as although you can't communicate, and he doesn't seem to know you're there, it feels like you have a friend. Something you will need in order to face the cruel detachment of your classmates._

 _You grind your teeth together in frustration, still undeniably furious about the reception you and your parents have been receiving all day and trying to contain the urge to scream in the faces of all the unbearably impassive children. How do they do it? You think you might go mad if you are forced you endure over decade of this and you can't bear the thought of seeing the placid apathy turn to cool judgement as they grow older. It hurts. This realisation that based on the experiences and reactions of your mummy and daddy you will never be accepted by them, never fit in. And as with all things this pain is quick to turn into a simmering resentment, an undercurrent of bitterness that will never go away._

 _On the way home you stare out at the forest of metal through the window of the speeder, absentmindedly listening to Mummy and Daddy discuss the academy's syllabus and league table placing. You don't actually understand any of what they're saying (the subject is quite beyond you and by the sounds of it, incredibly boring) but they seem to be debating it fiercely. It's dark now and outside the city's shields a massive storm of ice and snow buffets against the protective force field encircling Sing'dai._

 _Looking at the bright lights and big city pass you by, you can't help resentful of it all, of the towering prison it represents. Long have you known that your family were different, looked down upon by others. That other people were cold like Brion, their hearts guarded and hidden like scandalous secrets. But not until today have you ever considered what this would mean for you. You are too young to really grasp the enormity of what you have stumbled upon, and it would not be for years that you truly understood. But the seeds of lifelong anger were planted and they would never really die._


	3. Chapter 2: Coruscant Nights

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 2: Coruscant Nights

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars**

* * *

"Tell me again why you're volunteering for another three years of study?"

Isharia sighed and looked over at her companion, "Because I want to, Shayla. Contrary to your opinion, some of us _like_ to study."

"I don't get it though, you could work at any medical centre in the _galaxy_ with your credentials, why stick around _here_?"

"Because Dr Ranil went off to study some obscure lifeform in the Outer Rim, so I'm the only one in the department qualified and knowledgeable enough to liaise with the Temple."

Shayla scrunched her pink nose in disgust, "So you're stuck here because Dr Hot went off to ' _commune with nature'_ and left you to play nice with a bunch of sexually repressed killjoys? Wow, what a wonderful man."

Isharia rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink, savouring tart flavour and the sharp burn of the alcohol, "They're not that bad, Shayla. Honestly, the way you talk about them you'd think that all the Jedi do is recite the code and contemplate in silence."

The Zeltron snorted delicately, "Maybe not, but you'd never see one _here_ ," she said, sweeping her hand out to indicate their present location.

Isharia flicked her eyes from side to side to take in the psychedelic lights and messy crowd of sweaty, undulating bodies around them and murmured into her drink, "I wonder why _I'm_ here."

Shayla sighed exasperatedly and raised her lilac eyes to the heavens before rising from her seat, "If you're going to be such a Debbie Downer, I'm leaving you here and dancing." She turned to Isharia and pointed a perfectly manicured gold nail at her, "Don't try to leave without me," before flicking her voluminous blue locks and sauntering off, sending a wave of powerful pheromones in her wake.

Isharia watched from her place at the bar as Shayla drew a crowd of helpless males in around her like flies to honey, each one attracted to the unique chemical composition of her allure. She and Shayla had met at Fresher's Week at the university, with the Zeltron electing herself as the clueless offworlder's tour guide around the best party spots Coruscant had to offer. Isharia herself had been too enthralled by the vibrant fuchsia of her skin and royal blue of her tresses to resist too much, having never seen such colours on anyone before. This had led to her spending the week stumbling from club to club and bar to bar in a blinding haze of flashing lights and hypnotic bass, barely given any time to rest in Shayla's relentless quest for fun.

They had bonded that week over shared hangovers, and when Isharia KO'd a handsy Falleen that wouldn't take no for an answer, they became friends for life. For the next three years Shayla had made it her mission to drag Isharia away from the 'monotonous black hole of academia' to the real world ( _because people are having_ fun _out there, Isharia and you're gunna ossify in here_ ). Even after Shayla had graduated with a degree in Journalism and Interplanetary Relations, she still turned up every so often to pull her out of the lab and off on some crazy sex-and-alcohol fuelled adventure where Isharia would have to spend the next forty-eight hours playing supervisor to the galaxy's most irresponsible party animal.

She didn't mind. To be honest some of her most treasured memories had come from those insane, merry-making extravaganzas; it had been so completely opposite to Brion that she had willingly gone along to every foam party or ridiculous blind date event. She had felt herself come alive under the kaleidoscopic lights and surrounded by the raw energy and mesmerising presences of strangers, revelling in the feeling of doing something that would probably have her grandmother disown her. And so after seven years of wacky escapades and Shayla's usual trail of jealous girlfriends, Isharia could happily say that Shayla was her best friend.

" _Which brings me to now,"_ she thought wryly.

Shayla had decided that in order to _properly_ celebrate Isharia's PhD research proposal being accepted by the university board, they needed to go out. Why, Isharia had no idea. She was perfectly content with staying at home in her apartment planning what she was going to say to the Temple representative who was coming to meet with her on Primeday. If it went ahead, her research would touch on a rather delicate subject for the Jedi and would require their full co-operation. But, as with all things, Shayla was able to wash away her plans like a Jabiim rainstorm.

They had ended up at a club located on one of the less respectable levels of the Entertainment District. Here the clientele waswere less the rambunctious children of Coruscant's elite and more the shadier folk that occupied the underworld; a collection of upper-end smugglers and drug dealers looking to sell to the more _intrepid_ surface dwellers that occasionally made their way down here. Already the two of them had been offered at least four different variations of spice and three varying brands of death sticks. Once again, this escapade was due to Shayla's insistence on being 'adventurous'( _Come on, Isharia, you only live once! We'll be_ fine) and Isharia had yet to see the positive side.

The club was large, dark and moist from the sweat of at least three-hundred drug-addled, euphoric dancers. From every corner speakers blared out a mesmeric trance track full of melodic phrases and mind-bending tempos that wouldn't have sounded out of place at some Zeltron orgy (which was probably why Shayla liked it) and the flashing lights pulsed between varying shades of neon and hypnotic strobe effects. Away from the dancefloor, the club was equipped with a range of suspicious looking darkened alcoves where the more dubious individuals could conduct their business away from the writhing mass of bodies. Dotted in amongst the throng were several raised podiums, each one occupied by scantily clad Twi'lek dancers, their graceful movements' one part sensual and two parts erotic.

The bar Isharia was sat at was tucked away on the left side of the club; it was superficially clean, but if one were to look closely at the counter, the stains and residues left by countless inebriated patrons could be found. The barman was a bored looking Nautolan with smooth blue skin and bulbous dark eyes; every so often his gaze would drift over to the couple dry-humping against the wall before pulling a long-suffering expression and going back cleaning stained glasses with a dirty rag.

Isharia's face twisted into a grimace, _'Why do I let Shayla bring me to these places?'_ she thought, looking around the club with disgust, _'If she wanted to go out, Club Kasakar would've been fine. It would have been affordable_ and _I wouldn't have to worry about someone kidnapping one of us.'_ She eyed the room with distain, _'This place is disgusting.'_

Isharia finished the rest of her drink and placed the glass down on the scratched bar top, trying not to look too closely at the marks left on the surface. She caught the eye of the barman and signalled for him to come over with a slight tilt of the head. The Nautolan shoved the glass he was cleaning on an overhead shelf and draped the cleaning rag over one shoulder before strolling over, his fourteen head-tresses swaying with each step.

"What'll it be, missMiss?" he asked in drawled, lazy tones.

"Hoth daiquiri, please," Isharia practically shouted, struggling to get her voice heard over the pounding beat.

"That'll be nine creds," he replied

Both Isharia's eyebrows went up in shock, _'Nine creds in a dump like this!? What a rip off!'!"_ she thought incredulously. She reached into her purple clutch bag to find her purse and reluctantly pulled out the correct amount of coins before depositing them on the counter. The barman's eyes drifted over them before he nodded slightly, scooped them up with one hand and wandered over to the row of multi-coloured bottles behind him to begin mixing the drink.

Isharia sighed and sat back on her stool to wait, gaze scanning the crowd of revellers in an attempt to pick out Shayla's distinctive form. The crowd was a mixture of sentient races, from Dugs to Rodians to Humans. It was quite a feast for the eyes, one Isharia was drinking in eagerly and secretly savouring. After a childhood spent on Brion with its strict No-Entry-No-Exit policy, the sheer number and diversity of sentient species floating around the galaxy was quite the culture shock. She had spent nearly three months after finally leaving Brion just trawling through the HoloNet, desperately trying to research each one. It was fascinating. She had never in her wildest dreams imagined there was so much _life_ out there, after growing up solely exposed to Brionians (Humans (Brionian Humans at that, and they were rather bland) being exposed to an entire galaxy full of extraordinary and varied lifeforms was mind-blowing.

Isharia felt a shiver work its way up her spine, indicating someone was watching her and slid her eyes over the other patrons of the bar. They settled on a dirty looking human male dressed from head to toe in a drab, dark brown. His lank hair hung in limp clumps over his face and his sunken dark eyes topped deep, shadowed crevices in the tell-tale signs of a long- term spice addict. His hungry gaze roved up her form, undressing her in his mind and his fingers twitched in nervous, claw like motions, reaching for a fix he did not have.

She sighed internally and tensed the muscles in her face to form the stone cold Brionian impassivity she had mastered over years. Her eyes hardened until they resembled jagged shards of black ice and she fixed the man with a form of her grandmother's patented death glare: a mixture of icy superiority, complete distain and utter apathy. When the man's eyes met hers, he paled slightly under the force of the look and shrunk back muttering to himself. To discourage him further, she reached out with the Force and nudged against the rank slime of his mind, distorted and made ugly by drug induced psychosis and a life filled with the worst sort of crime. She focused on her anger and sent a thin tendril of malicious energythe dark side into his presence, feeling as it slithered its way into the recesses of his consciousness. The man went even whiter and fixed her with a look of utmost fear before scrambling up off his seat and hurrying off into the crowd.

Isharia relaxed her face and scowled, _'Good riddance,'_ she thought with revulsion. She could feel in his mind what he wanted to do to her and Shayla, what he had done to many other girls, _'Maybe that'll put him off somewhat.'_ His mind had been absolutely filthy, something that was sadly becoming more common as of late, Isharia could barely go a day now without sensing the taint of unbalanced Dark Sidedark side energy sinking toxic claws into the world around her. A shroud had been steadily enveloping the Force in the last few years, a mammoth construct of poisonous fibres that weaved gossamer webs of compulsion over the city planet. It was faint and almost imperceptible to any Force users who didn't already know it was there, Isharia herself only felt it because she had previous experience with such things.

What confused her however, was that still not one Jedi seemed to have noticed. Out of the thousands of Jedi that frequently occupied the Temple, not a single individual of that learned Order had ever picked up on the ever-darkening hue of the Force.

' _Their unbalanced use of the Light_ Kim'ar _must cloud their sight,'_ Isharia mused, watching as the barman came back over with her drink.

"One Hoth daiquiri," he said, placing the glass down in front of her.

"Thanks."

She picked up the drink and took a sip, enjoying the citrus flavour of the Muja fruit and the bite of the Corellian rum. _'I bet unbalanced Dark_ Ishk'ar _users experience the same when the Light Sidelight side is in ascendance.'_ She grimaced, _'Although, I suppose the whole thing is inevitable considering the Light Sidelight side has been the sole power in the galaxy for the last thousand years, the balance would have to correct itself at some point.'_ She took in the club from over the rim her glass, _'I just really hope it's not in my lifetime.'_

She thought back to her lessons on the Force growing up, the academy teachers had had the unfortunate gift of making even the most interesting of topics tedious and dull. One thing they were quite clear on though was that the balance must _always_ be preserved, whether that was on a small scale of personal Force use, or a large scale of entire planets or the galaxy as a whole. However, after spending a fair amount of time at the Temple over the years with Dr Ranil and his team, she couldn't say that she was all that convinced that Light Sidelight side domination was such a bad thing: the atmosphere at the Temple was certainly a whole lot better than anywhere on Brion.

She sighed, _'Well not much I can do about it anyway, unless I want to pull attention to my training on Brion,'_ her face morphed into a grimace, _'now that would be bad.'_

Isharia sank down on her stool and relaxed, taking slow sips from her beverage and trying to enjoy the music. She expanded her senses and felt the raw, primal joy of the dance fill her mind, taking in the universal feeling of happiness that came from moving one's body to a beat as it radiated off the crowd. In settings such as this, individual minds were nearly impossible to distinguish outside of deep meditation, as all were joined in an overarching feeling of ecstasy.

She jolted as she felt a tap on her shoulder, whipping her head round she saw the Nautolan barman leaning over the counter, the tendrils on his head falling over his form.

"Is that your friend?" he asked, gesturing with his head to indicate the person he was referring to.

Isharia turned around and scanned the crowd in the direction he had pointed out. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in a dazed looking Shayla in her neon yellow and green dress surrounded by a group of grinning male Weequay. She felt fury rise up in her a she slammed her drink down on the bar top, hastily grabbed her bag and began using the Force to clear her mind ofaccelerate flushing the alcohol from her bloodstream. "Thanks," she tossed over her shoulder to the barman who shrugged in reply before storming over to Shayla.

When she reached Shayla, she grabbed her by the arm and started to pull her toward the exit, " _We_ are _leaving_!" she hissed in Shayla's ear.

Shayla turned her head around to face Isharia with exaggerated slowness, the pupils of her lavender eyes blown wide, "Whaaaat? _Noooooo!_ I don't _wanna_ leave yet!" she slurred, trying to keep herself balanced in her neck-breaker stilettos, her hands shaking. "Yuuur sucha, a, a _bore_ , Isharia! It's because of the _Jedi,_ isn't it? Don't make me _leeeeeave!_ " she whined, her speech garbled and indistinct.

One of the Weequay spoke up, his face set in a smirk and his beady eyes fixed on Shayla's body, "Yeah, Isharia, don't make her leave. We were just getting started." His gaze flicked to her and trailed down her form, "Unless you'd like to join?"

The other Weequay sniggered and Isharia turned her furious glare on the one that had spoken, "No thank you. The two of us will be going now," she ground out through clenched teeth, half supporting, half dragging Shayla toward the doors at the back.

The Weequay raised his hands in defence, "Cool it down, sister, I'll take that as a no then,"

"I am _not_ your sister!" she spat, glaring.

" _Bitch,_ " he muttered.

Isharia shot them one last venomous look and bodily hauled Shayla away. " _Nooooo,_ Isharia! We were having _fun!_ " came Shayla's voice, her words falling together in a jumbled mess.

"What the kriff happened to you, Shayla? You were fine ten minutes ago!" Isharia growled angrily as they stumbled outside, the stale air of the Coruscanti underworld greeting their nostrils.

Shayla giggled, her eyes flickering randomly in every direction, obviously barely paying attention, "They were _niiiice,_ Tak even offered me some of his drink!" she pouted, licking her lips and twisting her jaw, "Unlike _you,_ why are we _leaving!_ "

Isharia abruptly stopped, causing Shayla to bump into her and almost go flying, Isharia caught her on reflex. "You. Accepted. Some of his _drink!_ " Isharia hissed, baring her teeth and bringing her face close to Shayla's. " _Were you dropped on your head as a child!?"_ she snarled " _Or are you just that mentally deficient!?"_

Shayla scowled, gaze directed up in the opposite direction "You're being _meeean,_ stop it, Isharia, I thought we were _frieeends."_

Isharia stood back and took in her friend's twitching hands, vacant, dilated eyes and the constant clenching and unclenching of her jaw and sighed angrily. She pulled Shayla over to the side of the path and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground. "Sit here," she ordered. _'What have I done to deserve this?'_ shethoughtasshe slid into a crouch in front of her, _'I heard Zeltrons were gullible but this is just ridiculous!'_

Isharia cast that from her mind and focused on her dazed friend, trying to remember some of the basic lessons for identifying and treating this sort of thing. _'Rapid, involuntary eye movements,'_ she thought as she reached over to lift Shayla's eyelid and study the lilac orb, Shayla being too interested in something only she could see in the distance to complain. Isharia grimaced, _'With dilated pupils too.'_ She then reached over to grab a magenta wrist, flipping it over in her hand a couple of times before taking the pulse, _'Uncontrolled shaking and sweaty palms, along with lower body temperature and increased heart rate.'_ Isharia dropped her wrist, letting in flop to Shayla's side before bringing her hand up in front of her friend's face and snapping her fingers to grab her attention.

Shayla eyelids closed and opened slowly over her wide pupils in a long slow blink, " _Yeeees?_ " she slurred.

' _And finally, slower reaction time and difficulty focusing. Classic glitterstim symptoms.'_ Isharia exhaled forcefully through her nostrils, "You are _kriffing_ lucky that I'm a doctor and that bartender saw you, you _utter_ _karking_ _moron!_ " she ground out. "Sometimes I feel more like your mother than your friend. You _don't_ accept drinks from strangers, _especially_ this far below the surface!" she reprimanded with the air of someone who'd been over this multiple times.

Isharia stood up and brushed her leather clad legs down before grabbing Shayla by her elbows and hauling her up. "Come on, let's go." She muttered, wrapping one of her friend's arms around her shoulders. Together, they staggered along the road, avoiding festering piles of refuse and the unconscious forms of other party-goers. The air smelt damp and stale and the street was lit with luminescence of multiple fluorescent signs, advertising various bars, clubs and strip joints in blocky aurabesh. Day and night were illusions down here; with the absence of natural light, the clubs were open 24/5 and the city never slept.

Struggling to support the weight of her much taller friend and balance in her heeled boots at the same time, Isharia lurched to a stop. Normally Shayla's weight wouldn't be a problem, she was adapted for the stronger gravity of Brion after all, but Isharia had barely slept in weeks with the stress and was bone tired. She carefully leaned Shayla against the side of a dirty durasteel wall and slumped next to her, eyeing the sign of a restaurant offering twenty-four hour ChandrilanChrandrilan takeaway.

"Why in _Sith Hells_ are you so heavy, Shayla?" Isharia muttered letting her head thump back on the cold steel behind her.

Shayla, who by this point was barely conscious under the drug's effects, mumbled something incoherent and darted her eyes in random patterns around the street.

Isharia looked over at her, _'They must've given her a strong dose for it to take so fast,'_ she thought worriedly, facial muscles pulled tight with concern. "Good thing you have two livers, otherwise this could've been much worse," she muttered.

Letting the cool durasteel chill her heated skin, Isharia allowed herself to rest for a bit, watching as fellow clubbers jerked and swayed along the paths and speeders flew along narrow underworld skylanes. The buildings around her vibrated with the thumping bass of hundreds of nightclubs and the boisterous shouts of thousands of pleasure seekers filled the air. Despite the fact this was hardly the time to admire the scenery, Isharia couldn't resist marvelling at the feel of it all through the Force.

It was like floating in a sea of euphoria. Excitement and exhilaration constantly rippled in erratic pulses through the Force in the Entertainment District. It was an ambiance unique to the area, with generations upon generations of the capital's young people seeking ecstasy and oblivion within its confines. There were clubs and bars, brothels and bordellos, ranging from those that were no more than disease-ridden hives of scum to the high-class amusements of the super-rich.

Through the Force it was amazing: a potent cocktail of mad satisfaction and blissed mania that swept through Isharia in psychedelic waves. There was a reason Jedi didn't tend to stay too long or travel too deep in the Entertainment District, the buzzed atmosphere was as addictive as any drug to a Force user who wasn't prepared for it. Isharia herself was only able to spend the time she did amongst the emotional high due to many hours spent mentally training herself to resist its seductive call.

She sighed and, as she was wont to do, mentally compared it to Brion.

Brionians were a highly restrained lot, their forbidding demeanour and cold personalities a natural deterrent to any sort of frivolity. On Brion parties were tame, societal affairs where the ambitious used their dagger-sharp minds to mock and scorn in honeyed tones; where alliances were wrought and broken and anyone could be destroyed by a whisper to the right ear. If Coruscant and its Entertainment District was a firework: fast, dynamic and vivacious, Brion was a frozen lake camouflaged by powder snow: soft and innocent on the surface but deadly beneath. It was a place where when the ice cracked and you fell through, the mad scrabbling to recover would leave you bloody and raw.

Even the atmosphere was different, Brionian parties were always set to haunting melodies crooned by eerie layered voices. The tone low and hypnotic, the type that sent chills down your spine. The dances were a far cry from the primal fervour displayed on Coruscant: intricate and precise, every movement of the hand and flick of the eyes specifically chosen to covey a clandestine message. Dances on Brion were whole conversations in themselves, secrets shared during a waltz had sparked and quelled riots, silenced and slaughtered enemies. It was so far removed from the unrestrained wildness of Coruscanti dance clubs that it might as well have been a different galaxy altogether.

' _By the Force, I'm glad to be free of that place!'_ Isharia thought with a small smile as she stared up at the messy labyrinth of interlocking skylanes. For seventeen years Brion had been her prison, chains of spun snowflakes had held her down in a cage of towering ice pillars and emotionless monochrome eyes had pinned her where she kneeled in submission. Leaving had been the best decision she'd ever made. After her parents died there had been nothing holding her to that barren rock and it had taken the better part of nine years to realise it.

She closed her eyes and opened her senses fully to the Force, basking in the grandeur of Coruscant through it. In her mind's eye, she traced the iridescent patchwork of souls stretching off into spiritual infinity and marvelled at the fluctuating fabric of it. She could feel each tiny pinprick flash and ripple as the old sputtered and died and the young burst to life. It was divine. In the weave of it she could see the shades everlasting time, where the Force interacted with the eternality between real and unreal and threw about echoes of all that existed in every moment. It shifted in ethereal rivers, revealing the ghosts of instants where there was no _then_ or _now_ or _after,_ there simply _was_.

Isharia breathed in deeply, swimming in the wonder of being connected to something so infinite and unknowable. _'This is what it must feel like to be a god,'_ she thought with reverence. Ever since she had properly sunk into the Force for the first time, she had treated it with a respectful awe, it was everywhere and every moment all at once. All around her the smells and sounds of the seedy underworld street faded into the void as she took in the vast urban sprawl of Coruscant, the trillions of minds shining in a spiritual masterpiece through metaphysical space.

It was large and untameable, each presence battering her mind in a storm of riotous feeling as they all subconsciously clamoured to be heard. That was another difference between Brion and Coruscant. On Brion the fabric of the Force was sedate, sure it was still as mystical and incomprehensible, but the minds of individuals generally tended to drift by passively, brushing at the edge of her mind feather-light but no more. On Coruscant, however, they practically shouted at her in an effort to attract her attention, there was this overarching _need_ to be acknowledged that was absent on Brion.

She stretched out and swept her senses away from the addictive euphoria of the Entertainment District and out to the rigorously ordered Financial District. Here, the presences pulsed and flashed at regular intervals, interlocking and connecting like a spiritual circuit board; the well-ordered minds of the galaxies bankers and brokers driving the economy onwards. Next, she flitted over the Senate. Here the Force swirled and twisted in complex whorls, the ideals and agendas of politicians clashing and reforming, mixing and snaking into something new. Then to the university, where minds sparked erratically with each new inspiration, random and genius at the same time. Finally she wandered over to the Temple, a shining oasis of tranquillity within the chaos of Coruscant, a fixture of the psychic landscape.

Through the Force the city was just as enormous as it was in the physical world, a huge evolving organism in itself. She had never quite gotten over the size of Galactic City, the sight of it glowing with the artificial shine of a trillion lights never ceased to make her breath catch whenever she took a rare trip offworld. It was single-handedly the most amazing place she had ever been, a place of infinite possibilities, somewhere she could be anything she wanted.

Sinking out of her trance she smiled fondly, recalling the first time she had set foot on Coruscant. She had arrived at a spaceport somewhere near the Senate District, fresh off a transport from first the middle-of-nowhere planet she had flown to after leaving Brion. Arrivals had been packed with all manner of species: big, small, tall, short, the works; it had been hard to keep herself from gaping like an idiot at everything she saw.

' _At least the scenery was familiar,'_ she recalled wistfully, _'I can't imagine how much of a stupid tourist I would have looked if I'd turned up somewhere with actual forests like Alderaan.'_

Growing up on Brion had given her an advantage in that respect, on the surface, Galactic City was very much alike to any of the six megacities on Brion. With the whole planet being pretty much uninhabitable, the areas under the thermo-reg shields were havens for the entire population. As a result, the skytowers grew higher and higher with each generation and more and more people occupied the limited space. The only thing that stopped the lower levels of Brionian cities from turning into the Coruscanti underworld was probably the intrinsic Brionian appreciation for order and their purely logical attitude towards the law.

' _Although there are some places,'_ Isharia thought darkly, scowling grimly up at where the sky should be, _'I would know.'_

Rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly, she sighed and glanced over at where Shayla stared gormlessly out in the distance, her presence in the Force sluggish and muted due to the drugs in her system. "I guess you'll be sleeping in my spare room again tonight," Isharia informed her unresponsive friend wearily, "I don't trust you to take care of yourself when you're like this." She pulled herself off the side of the building and ran a hand through her hair, mussing the tangled mane of curls further, "Stars, I should probably just let you move in already," she muttered grabbing both of Shayla's arms and hauling her up and over her shoulders.

Isharia carefully manoeuvred the two of them along the street, occasionally stumbling and swaying under Shayla's limp, dead weight. The Zeltron's head lolled around her shoulder, a heavy, bony mass digging into her clavicle as Shayla muttered and murmured in her native tongue, every so often giggling breathily and leaning in to kiss Isharia's neck.

Isharia rolled her eyes. It was amazing how often this situation had been repeated, the legendary Zeltron gullibility working against Shayla and her enthusiasm for anything remotely enjoyable sapping the rest of her good judgement.

She frowned with irritation as Shayla's affectionate kisses got sloppier and she sprawled more insistently of over Isharia's side. Her thick blue hair was shoved up against Isharia's nose as she struggled not to gag at the overwhelming musk of pheromones; she thanked whatever god that was out there that she could use the Force to clear her head.

Zeltron pheromones were powerful things, designed to make the one emitting them more attractive and likeable; coupled with their empathetic abilities and universal appeal they were actually rather formidable. It was probably a good thing that the majority of their species were mainly lazy hedonists, with drive, they could almost certainly do some serious damage to the galaxy at large.

Although, currently Isharia was more concerned about herself rather than the rest of the galaxy. In her deliria, Shayla was projecting the strongest feelings of lust she could muster and with the two of them sharing skin-to-skin contact, Isharia was receiving all of them. It flooded her body with liquid heat and raced down her spine in trails of molten fire. Her pupils had dilated and black eyes grown blacker as the sensation coiled low in her belly and her limbs raced with volatile sparks. It was all she could do to keep herself focused in the moment rather than falling into the alluring feel of it.

She reached out to the Force and used the erratic buzzsoothing waves of the night around herlight side to calm the heated thirst in her blood. As clarity returned to her thoughts she scowled. She couldn't blame her for her natural impulses, it wasn't as if Shayla held any _real_ sort of interest in her best friend, it was more that Isharia was the closest warm body and Zeltrons were -above all things- pleasure seekers.

' _Damn those Weequay! Damn them to kriffing Sith hell!'_ she cursed heatedly, struggling under her friend's gangly limbs to push her away. If Isharia hadn't been there, chances were the group them would have used Shayla's drugged up, overly affectionate state to do with her as they pleased.

And those situations were never pretty.

It wasn't uncommon for unsuspecting party goers to be targeted by filth of the galaxy, using their naivety or delirious states to live out their sick, twisted fantasies. The best that you could hope for was waking up in some strange place with no memory of the events that brought you and aches in places there really shouldn't be. The worst was undoubtedly awakening on the cold steel of a trader ship with an implant stuck in your body on your way to the Outer Rim slave markets.

Most of these cases went by uncared for by the authorities who had written the underworld off as a lost cause, the lower levels were too crime infested over the course of millennia for anything other than all-out war on the underworld to change that. The senate didn't care and the Jedi had _more important_ things to be doing than sorting out the vile stain of the lower levels or breaking up illegal slave rings.

' _More important things my arse!'_ Isharia snorted derisively, _'From what I've seen over the years all most Jedi do is sit on their backsides in their cushy temple while the galaxy and the government grow more stagnant by the day!'_ she adjusted Shayla's weight and turned off into a filthy, litter strewn side street, _'It's either that or unimportant diplomatic missions to planets that would do well to solve their own karking problems!'_

It wasn't that Isharia disliked the Jedi, in fact she rather admired them -despite years of her grandmother'sGrandmothers scathing diatribe- it was just that she believed wholeheartedly that they needed to stop being passive observers and take a more active role in the galaxy.

Eventually they stumbled down the alley where Isharia had hidden her speeder, tucked away down a backstreet to avoid the notice of any shady characters looking to steal it.

It sat gleaming in amongst the rotten piles of refuse that clogged up the alley, its purple finish blending seamlessly with the shadowed corners and looming durasteel walls. The machine was Isharia's pride and joy and had cost a considerable amount of her inheritance filched from Brion to purchase. The _Airstreamer K-series_ was a top of the range model from a reputable Coruscanti company that often supplied speeders for the annual races over on the other side of the planet. Famed for its manoeuvrability and high speeds, it was a rather unnecessary purchase, but she loved it anyway.

She liked to think her speed-demon mother would have approved of it.

The two of them tottered over to it, narrowly avoiding what looked like the putrid remains of a particularly fat rat and making their way over to the passenger side. Isharia leant Shayla against the door, making sure she was unlikely to simply collapse onto the squalid floor and winced slightly at the thought of all the dirty marks that would be left on her perfect paintjob. She carefully made her way to the driver's side, taking caution to avoid stepping in the pools of fetid water that lay stagnant on the ground and dodging litter barely visible in the gloom.

She placed her hand on the side of the door and watched as it lit up where her palm lay and a ring of blue light chased itself around her hand. A few seconds later the blue turned green and small beep and several synchronised clicks indicated her handprint had been accepted and the biometric locks disengaged.

She crept back over to Shayla who was slumped against the side of the speeder, her face pressed up against the roof. _'Urgh, is she drooling on my speeder!?'_ Isharia scowled, glaring at her dazed friend, who was still giggling softly under her breath. "What am I going to do with you?" she muttered, shaking her head.

Isharia rolled Shayla away from the door and leant down to open it up. "In you go," she murmured, dragging the unresisting Zeltron down into the passenger seat and strapping her in.

Shayla stretched up to nuzzle Isharia's arms, the feeling of lust once again hammering at her mind, "Love you, 'Sharia," Shayla whispered smiling.

"Yeah, yeahYeah," Isharia rolled her eyes, "if you loved me so much you wouldn't bring me to these places," she sighed standing back up and closing the door.

She climbed into her side of the speeder and pressed the start button, watching as the dark interior camecome alive as blue, red and orange light flooded the display. She listened with contentment as the repulsorlift kicked in, lifting the craft up. She carefully shifted the speeder into gear, releasing the handbrake and smiled as the engine purred with pleasure. Glancing once at Shayla, she expertly navigated the speeder out of the confines of the alley and into the narrow underworld lanes.

It wasn't _technically_ legal for her to be flying down here. She didn't have a special license or a government permit to fly anywhere other than the strictly regulated skylanes that crisscrossed the surface. However Isharia had long since learnt that law enforcement had minimal, if any, presence this far down in the Entertainment District and there was no real risk of being questioned.

They drifted along slowly, the neon glow of the passing clubs and bars reflected in the shine of their eyes. Shayla sat staring out of the window in wonderment, her emotions fluctuating wildly between innocent awe and giddy happiness. Isharia grimaced as the waves of sluggish glee buffeted her shields, "I hate it when you're intoxicated. No control, Shayla, no control," she muttered under her breath, glancing at her friend from the corner of her eye.

They floated sedately along, twisting and turning through the narrows until they reached the descent shaft that would take them back up to the surface. Isharia pulled up alongside a battered, rusted toll-droid hovering by the entrance and reached her card out for it to scan. After a few seconds its faltering mechanised voice croaked out, "PAYMENT...ZZZZ...-PTED...ZZZZ...PROCEED," leaving Isharia free to manoeuvre the speeder into the looming duct.

Once inside, she fiddled with the buttons and touch sensors on the dashboard to set the machine to climb and relaxed back against the dark leather upholstery for the ascent.

Shayla, it seemed, had finally fallen asleep, her head lolled back against the headrest with her full lips wide open and her hair falling around her in royal blue waves. Every so often she would let out a soft snore before her breath settled back into an even rhythm. Isharia felt an upwelling of affection fill her as she contemplated her best friend; she looked so innocent when she slept, her pretty features relaxed and open and her expression soft. For all the trouble Shayla caused her, she was a wonderful friend, the only person who was willing to befriend the odd palehuman girl that looked so nervous around other people.

Shayla had taught her more than Isharia cared to admit, before meeting her she had no real social skills at all. Years of being shunned by her peers and then the restrictive culture of the Hunters had seriously undermined her ability to communicate with others, not that being on Brion would have taught her that anyway. Shayla had opened her up to a world of possibility, her free spirited, happy-go-lucky attitude combined with her open mindedness towards just about anything was a breath of fresh air for someone who was used to be part of a collective rather than an individual.

Isharia watched as the stained, grimy metal walls of the shaft gradually grew cleaner as they approached civilised society; the dank green mould making way for large coloured posters and holographic neon ads. They were the only people returning to the surface so the whole tunnel was empty and the usual hum of motors absent.

Catching a flickering light out of the corner of her eye, Isharia looked down to see the display on the dashboard indicating they had reached the top floor and switched the speeder off of climb and on to fly. Flashing her card to a much newer, better cared for looking toll-droid she pulled out of the descent shaft and slid smoothly onto one of the many busy skylanes dotting the upper levels of the ecumenopolis.

The skyline was alight with life as from every level light flowed into the night, creating a dusky glow akin to the setting of a thousand tiny suns. Speeders rocketed past the towering steel monoliths in droves, pouring through the sky in glowing trails of activity. If the thumping bass of the Entertainment District was the heart of the planet, the bright rivers of speeders were the veins and capillaries, transporting nutrients in the form of goods and people across the living city.

Grinning, Isharia shifted her speeder into top gear and opened herself to the Force, using the tremors of premonition and extrasensory perception to weave artfully through the masses at high speeds. She felt like laughing with exhilaration and pure delight as she put the _Airstreamer_ to good use dodging and ducking the queues of traffic. _'One good thing came out of tonight,'_ Isharia thought with excitement, _'can't do this when Shayla's awake!'_ She pressed down harder on the accelerator, pushing the purple speeder into the realm of racing speed and shooting past the other traffic. The lights and buildings sped past in blurs of flashing colour as the _Airstreamer_ whizzed by them all. Isharia could've crowed with glee, rarely did see get to indulge her need for speed like this, feeling the little blips of life in the Force flicker and run alongside her in bursts of pure adrenaline. These sorts of speeds would be highly dangerous for most humans, their reaction time too slow to handle the dramatic changes of direction necessary for high-speed navigation.

The journey back was fairly simple, Isharia owned a modest apartment on the higher floors of a standard living complex just off from the university grounds. As an employed lab assistant, medicacademic and soon-to-be post-grad student, she _was_ entitled to accommodation on site but she refused to have her entire life dominated by her job.

' _Good thing too,'_ she considered with some amusement, _'I don't think the university tenancy agreement extends to crazy friends who party hard and occasionally send random_ 'guests' _to cheer me up.'_ Her lips quirked up in a small smile, _'I would have been evicted within the week, so much for responsible academic.'_

Her home was about an hour's journey from the centre of the Entertainment District at the speed she was currently at, three if you flew like everyone else. She was lucky that the Jedi made this their home planet, as such, high speed chases and fast flying speeders were hardly uncommon and so long as you didn't cause an accident, were barely noticed.

The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful, Shayla still sat snoring in the passenger seat while Isharia continued to thread through the other speeders at dizzying speeds. By the time they slowly pulled into the parking level of her building it was about threetwo-thirty in the morning and much of the surrounding residential area was dark and quiet. Isharia skilfully slid the _Airstreamer_ into her apartment's designated parking space and switched off the engine, leaving the dashboard display to power down and the craft to lower sedately to the ground. She opened the door, taking care not the scratch the finish on Mrs Garzeb's red IconCorp family speeder (they still hadn't found the body of the last poor person who did) and climbed out. She strolled over to the other side and nudged Shayla, "C'mon, Shay, we're here," she whispered lowly, brushing the thick strands of blue hair from her eyes.

Shayla's lilac orbs fluttered half open, "Hmm?" she hummed tiredly, still half asleep. She blinked slowly up at Isharia and closed her eyes again, turned into the upholstery and shifted down against it to go back to sleep.

Isharia tutted and rolled her eyes before reaching back to shake the drowsy Zeltron awake again, "You need to get up, Shayla. I'm not carrying you to my apartment," she murmured softly.

Shayla sighed quietly and slowly exited the vehicle. As she stood, she quickly lost balance in her high heels and swayed into Isharia who caught her just before she tumbled to the floor. It appeared that most of the glitterstim had worn off now; Shayla's eyes, while tired, no longer had that hazy unfocused look and her twitching muscles had stilled. _'Courtesy of those two livers,'_ Isharia supposed, once again pulling Shayla's arm around her shoulders to help her stumble up to the apartment, _'If it'd been me I would've been under the influence 'til morning,'_ she thought with a frown of displeasure.

Together they lurched towards the turbolifts on the other side of the floor, using the other speeders and support pillars to assist in their ungainly stumbling. When they finally crossed the lot, Isharia keyed in the code for her apartment and let the machine scan her retina, the turbolift call activating when it had been accepted. As they waited for the turbolift, Isharia repositioned Shayla from where she was sagging into her side with her chin digging painfully into her shoulder.

The air around them was still and stale from the lack of circulation and the orange lights flickered dolefully overhead. The sounds of the busy city outside were muted by the permacrete walls and the space around them was large and cavernous, giving the level a sort of echoing hush.

The turbolift arrived with a baleful sounding _ping!_ and they stepped inside. The inside was a dull chrome, tarnished from years of neglect with out of date advertisements and flyers plastering the walls in a mismatched collage. Over the speakers the tinny voice of a forgotten one-hit-wonder jingled out scratchily above their heads and the dingy enclosed space stunk of someone's takeaway.

Isharia wrinkled her nose in disgust as they rapidly rose the forty or so floors to her reach her level. As much as she loved the autonomy living as a nameless no one on Coruscant had given her, she couldn't help but pine somewhat for her luxurious high- rise penthouse on Brion or her sumptuous palace suite.

The turbolift ground to a stop some moments later and the doors jolted open to a nondescript dark corridor. The walls and carpet were a bland beige, utilitarian and clean, while the dim lighting shone industrial yellow. The hallway was broken up by standard dull metal doors on either side spaced between unoriginal pieces of modern art. The overall effect was about as uninspiring and bland as most of the inhabitants, many of whom were about as talkative and interesting as rocks.

' _Although,'_ Isharia mused as she pulled herself and Shayla along the corridor, _'the uni students we had living at the end of the hall last year were fairly entertaining,'_ she acceded with her brow wrinkled in thought, _'loud, but entertaining.'_

The two of them came to a stop outside a door marked 40076B and Isharia leant forward to present her eye to once more, trying not to blink as the red light of the scanner shone right into her face. A ring of green light lit up around the door as her retina was verified prompting it to slide open with a muted _thunk_.

Shuffling inside, Isharia groped around the wall for the light switch, moving her hand around blindly in the dark over the smooth surface of herthe white paint. Upon finding it, she flicked it down illuminating a modest open plan living space.

Her apartment on Coruscant was designed similarly to her one on Brion, albeit smaller; the main space was open and light with white walls and checkerboard furnishings offset by the pale faux-wood floors and large glass windows. She had a few coloured accents placed around the room to liven it up a bit, splashes of scarlet and sunshine; fiery colours that would've been unwelcome and unheard of on Brion.

Near the entrance to her apartment was the kitchen area with its white cupboards and false black stone surfaces. It was probably the place she had spent the most time and money on, her medical training and the Hunter exercise regime that she kept up turning her into something of a health nut. She'd stretched her meagre academic's salary about as far as it would go, installing state-of-the-art kitchen appliances and splashing out on crockery and kitchenware.

Off to the side was a short corridor that branched into two bedrooms and a refresher. Kicking her deactivated cleaning droid out of the way, she shuffled herself and Shayla down it and into her spare room. Not bothering to turn on the light, she toppled heavily back onto the small double bed in an inelegant sprawl, taking Shayla with her.

After carefully extracting herself from her friend's long limbs she stared up at the ceiling for a moment and sighed, she could feel the edges of her thoughts grow fuzzier and her eyelids leaden as tiredness caught up with her. It had been a long day, between her highly stressful presentation in front of the Medical and Biological Studies board at the university and tonight's misadventures she was knackered. _'I can't be bothered to move,'_ she thought yawning, _'Shayla and I can handle sleeping in our clothes and makeup for one night, it's not as if we haven't done it before,'_ she decided sleepily.

Decision made, she rolled herself over with a tired groan and drifted off to sleep with the sound of Shayla's soft snores behind her.


	4. Chapter 3: Coruscant Days

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 3: Coruscant Days

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars**

* * *

 _She dreams._

 _In her dreams there is a desert, a vast, ever-changing thing that shimmers in the noon-day light. It stretches into the horizon, an endless plain of crests and dips where the sand swirls and dances in eddies of motion. It is still. There is an eternity in the desert, an unchanging feel of forever that echoes in the lay of the sand and whispers in the wind that blows hot on her face. The sand is bleached white by the starlight that rains dry from the heavens and she knows just by looking at it that she stands on the bones of a people lost._

 _She walks forward, compelled by a feeling she knows not, the sand coarse and rough on her bare feet and naked skin. The desert is a place of rebirth, where time begins anew with every sandstorm and so it is fitting that she walks this place as bare as the day she was born, free to be moulded by the sun and the wind._

 _She takes slow steps through the dunes and the ground burns hot. There is power here, she can feel it buzzing through the air in a delighted hum. It likes being felt, this power, and she gets a sense that once upon an age it was the lifeblood of this place, cascading onto a people who relished in it. The desert is like Brion in that sense, overflowing with potential and carrying the aftertaste of a tragedy that sours what should be pure life._

 _In her dreams she sees a boy._

 _He rises from the sand, sculpted from the power that fills every grain; his hair is the colour of the golden ground and his eyes like the blue diamond sky. He is fully formed and perfect, his features cherubic and innocent and his presence shines with a beautiful naivety that glows like a new-born star. The power in the desert caresses him, it sighs with pleasure as it strokes non-existent fingers against his form._

 _He looks to the sky in wonder and longing, stretching desperately towards the mysteries it holds. Above his head the day has faded into night and the light of a thousand worlds bathes his face in beauty, the galaxy adorning his brow._

 _Time passes._

 _The boy in the desert grows into a man, he rises tall amongst the dunes and fills out with age. His shoulders strong enough to bear a man's responsibilities and his face soft enough to hold the hopes and dreams of a boy. He is beautiful in his adulthood, impossibly handsome, all soft spun-gold curls and plains of bronzed flesh. His eyes blaze with blue fire and while they still watch the sky, it is resolve and determination that fill them now, a drive to protect the stars and worlds he could cradle in his hands._

 _She feels as his presence changes, what once was the childlike glow of a fledgling sun now blazes like a supernova. It is raw and powerful and shines with the light of a thousand stars. The air around him crackles with intensity and the power of the desert sings a forgotten battle cry that fans the blaze higher. The light of his presence is scouring, it's like the desert in the way it makes and forms new what it touches, hardening and softening at the same time. She cannot help but look on in awe as the boy-now-man radiates glory more profound than any king._

 _But something changes._

 _The air becomes heavy and the gold of the desert starts to grey. The whitewashed bone-sand becomes ashes in the greyscale, only the man keeps his colour. His frame is wrought with tension and the precise lines of muscle beneath his skin are coiled and ready to fight. The corners of his eyes bleed a sickly molten yellow and his expression is dark and burdened._

 _He no longer looks to the sky, which is now dark, but to the ground, to the desert that gave him life. He digs his hands into it desperately, churning the grains in his battle worn fingers with the fervour of a starving man at a feast. He is searching –but for what she cannot discern. There is a despair in his eyes, an anguish in the lines of his body as his search proves fruitless._

 _And then there is rage._

 _The desert is shocked into motion as the misery of the man all at once becomes anger. It is a simple thing, a hate born of pain and fear and isolation that whips the wind into action. The ash-sand swirls around him in a storm of dead pasts, of dead futures and the power it holds and that in the air grows heavy and intense. His eyes blaze a terrible aureolin and overflow with the passion of an avenging god._

 _She instinctively raises her hands to shield herself from the tempest of his power, to protect herself from the buffeting winds and sand projectiles that rip across her skin. His power rages a terrifying inferno in her senses, blocking out and destroying the peace of the desert with the force of his emotion. The desert is no longer still, the hills and valleys of sand shift like waves in a storm, following the commands of the man._

 _He is petrifying and awesome all at once in his fury, the power of it enough to burn down worlds. The desert screams in wrath as the hellfire of his power grabs and burns until-_

 _-PAIN PAIN PAIN! The man falls to the ground and writhes in agony as the flames of his own power eat at his skin. They burn his beautiful flesh like acid, corroding his perfect desert-born form and she screams in tandem with him as the force of his suffering explodes through the desert in a shockwave of pure power. He claws at his raw, flaking skin with blunt nails and rivulets of blood trail down his body, pooling on the desert floor in a macabre splash of colour. The pain intensifies and so does his shrieking. She desperately wants to comfort him, to offer solace and smother the raging inferno of his power with the chilling ice of her own._

 _But she can't._

 _She is powerless and must watch on as this man, this beautiful, brave soul, destroys himself with the strength of his own fury._

 _Eventually the man's screams of agony diminish and fade as soon there is nothing left to burn, all that remains is a pool of thick crimson that sits on the surface of the sand. She watches in horror as it coagulates and becomes tarlike, grows and moves like a living thing, seeping through the ground and spreading tendrils of black poison. The desert grows darker as the bloodstain slithers and pollutes the sand, painting it a gory carmine that spreads in every direction like a sea of blood. The stars go dark one by one as the man no longer shelters them from the encroaching black and the silence in the desert is eerie and forbidding._

 _She forces her feet to move through the sodden sand, the thick blood welling up in her foot prints as she goes. She feels numb, a dazed kind of horror-struck as the hellish recollection of the burning man's dying screeches plays on repeat through her mind. She drags her bare form through the soundless sea of red sand slowly as the saturated ground grips at her feet like gelatinous sludge, the dark sky the heart of a black hole._

 _Then there is a light._

 _It appears in the distance at first, far on the edge of the scarlet horizon, past the rippling red dunes. She squints her eyes, trying to see it more clearly through the crimson gloom and takes cautious steps in its direction. Something about it_ draws _her, a tranquil island of bright in an ocean of dark. It calls her towards it, offering a familiarity she can't place and a feeling of acceptance she can't name._

 _The light aches with pain, an anguish as strong as any the burning man felt that sings through the blood-soaked landscape towards her. She can feel it in her bones: a regret beyond all others, a guilt so deep it doesn't have a name and a betrayal so agonising that even the stars would cry if they felt it. She falters slightly in her steps as she feels it._

 _But somehow even the pain is familiar._

 _It twists through her body with an ease born of times past, working throbbing fingers through disused emotional pathways within her mind like it already knows them. Something about that strangeness spurs her onwards and she breaks into a run. The light_ calls _her, it_ knows _her, and somewhere deep in her subconscious she knows it too. There is suddenly this_ need _to reach the light, to see what it is, to understand why she knows it and to bask in the comfort she knows its presence will bring._

 _And so she runs._

 _She sprints through the desert, her white curls whipping behind her in a platinum banner and her dark eyes riveted to the light ahead. She stumbles up the dunes and trips down gulleys of sand. Her hands and feet are stained red by the viscous fluid that permeates the granules and her white skin is splattered like a murder victim's. She grows closer with every step, she can feel it pulling at her mind. The desert is no longer silent here, it sings soft mournful tunes of broken hearts and broken bonds and she feels ever more desperate to reach the light. She is just about to cross the last dune, the final barrier and she picks up speed, anticipation burning in her chest, she is almost there-_

 _-But because it is both too early and too late, the dream fades._

-*8*-

" _Wake up! Wake up! It's time to start the day!"_

Isharia groaned as the cheerful tones of her alarm washed over her and squeezed her eyes shut against the thin streams of sunlight that glowed peach under her eyes.

" _Wake up! Wake up! It's time to start the day!"_

It was far too early for this. Determined to ignore it, she turned her head back into her pillow and nuzzled into it, spreading a hazy black smear across the white cotton and sighing sleepily.

" _Wake up! Wake up! It's time to start the day!"_

She scowled toward the pillow in annoyance and angrily ripped it from underneath her head to jam it over her ear, desperately trying to block out the overly happy voice and preserve the last vestiges of sleep.

" _Wake up! Wake up! It's time to start th-"_

" _Alright! Alright! I'm awake!_ " she cried in frustration, flinging the pillow away in irritation and opening her eyes to glare at the cutesy, anthropomorphic felinx hologram floating in front of her.

It merely blinked its large, blue eyes at her, puffy tail flicking lazily around its holographic green body before continuing, " _Today is Benduday 17_ _th_ _Avenu at 10:45am Coruscant standard time. The weather outside is a temperate 20˚C but with chance of cold winds coming down from the north, so be sure to wear a jacket! There are queues on the T-534D Eastbound heading towards the University and on the P-872G Southbound towards the Senate due to congestion so avoid-"_

"Yeah, whatever, deactivate," Isharia interrupted, rolling her eyes and sluggishly waving a hand to the side. The hologram shot her a mildly affronted glare, crossing its furry arms before giving a pompous sniff and fizzling out.

' _Why did I ever buy that thing?'_ she thought, running a hand over her face, _'All it's done get annoyed with me and me with it.'_

She heaved a sigh and pulled herself up, running a hand through her tangled mess of curls and wincing as her fingers twisted and tugged at the knotted strands. The morning sun shone bright through the expansive windows covering one wall and she watched idly as traffic buzzed about outside in a flurry of life. It was a beautiful morning, the sky was an endless swathe of blue, not a cloud in sight, and the steel monoliths of the city gleamed like mirrors in the sun.

Yawning, she looked over to the other side of the bed and was surprised to find it devoid of slumbering Zeltron. The duvet and sheets were rumpled from where Shayla had slept on top of them during the night and there was a rainbow of smudges and stains spotting the pillow from her makeup. Reaching over, Isharia ran her hand over the area and upon feeling the absence of any lingering warmth from body heat, concluded she had woken up some time ago.

' _What has the galaxy come to that I wake later than a Zeltron?'_ Isharia groaned, rubbing her hands over her eyes in an attempt to dislodge any sleep. She blinked blearily and, with great effort, swung her legs over the side of the bed before reaching up above her head to stretch and work out the kinks in her upper body. She grimaced slightly upon feeling the cracks in her spine as she arched her back, _'That shouldn't do that,'_ she thought frowning, _'twenty-five going on sixty,'_ she sighed, shaking her her arms flop back down to her sides, she cupped her neck and tilted her head back to gaze up at the ceiling, _'Force, I am so tired,'_ she thought wearily. Taking a deep breath, she tried to chase off the lingering dregs of slumber and bent down to remove her heeled boots, still enclosing her feet from last night's misadventure on the lower levels.

They were her favourite boots, an elaborate affair of laces and leather that she had guiltily purchased on impulse from an exclusive boutique in CoCo Town on her last trip to the area. They had been mightily expensive, costing more than some beings earnt in a month, but she just _had_ to buy them. Between her boots, her speeder and some of the other items in her apartment, it was evident that Isharia had no real self-control when it came to shopping. _'Must work on that,'_ she thought with a grimace as she loosened the ties on her boots.

Pulling both boots off, she hauled herself off the bed and stumbled half-asleep towards the door, intent on heading to the refresher for a long, hot shower. She had never been very good with mornings, sleep taking an unusually long time to loosen its hold on her; her brain never seemed to want to function properly until at _least_ eleven o'clock. She raised a hand to her mouth and yawned loudly, blinking her bloodshot eyes blearily and fumbling for the door handle.

Opening the door and stepping through, the first thing she noticed upon entering the main space of her apartment was the pungent aroma of caf. It wafted toward her nose in a scented cloud, the bitter fragrance tantalising her olfactory senses and subconsciously relaxing her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting out a pleased hum and a small smile. Following the scent, she walked out into the open living space of her apartment and leant against the wall, surveying the area with sleepy, half lidded eyes. Across from her was Shayla, puttering around the kitchen in a pair of Isharia's old black joggers and a fluorescent green vest that clashed horribly with her skin and hair. Her blue tresses were pulled back in a rough ponytail, sleek where they were damp, Shayla obviously having used her 'fresher sometime this morning.

"Morning!" Shayla called cheerily over her shoulder, raising one hand in an absentminded wave.

"Morning," Isharia grunted back from against the wall.

"Wow, you're cheery this morning," Shayla replied, raising an eyebrow as she turned around and leant back on the countertop. Catching a sight of Isharia, her eyes went wide and lit up with mirth as she bit her lip in an attempt to contain the laughter threatening to bubble out from between her lips.

Noticing her reaction, Isharia's eyes narrowed drowsily at the Zeltron and she drew herself slowly off the wall and crossed her arms, "What?" she enquired shortly.

"'Shar," she said, amusement colouring her tone, "You look like you just crawled out of an alley."

Isharia glared groggily at her, "Thanks," she retorted unimpressed, "bet you looked a million credits when you woke up this morning too," she added sarcastically.

Shayla raised both eyebrows and smiled, "I'd forgotten just how miserable you are in the mornings." Reaching over, she grabbed a mug of caf sat steaming behind her and raised it to her mouth to take a sip, licking her lips she said, "I'd thought you'd be a bit more cheerful after eightish hours of sleep."

Isharia sighed and scratched the back of her head, shifting her gaze over to the city skyline on the right, "Sleep debt," she said, watching as a garish yellow speederbus few past, brightly coloured holodrama advertisements flashing on its side, "haven't slept a full night in weeks." She turned her head back to Shayla and gave her a wan smile, "Been too busy preparing my proposal and preliminary write ups, not to mention all the shavit Ranil left me to sort through," she said dropping her hand and heaving a haggard sigh, "you would not believe how disorganised that man is."

"He left you his work?" Shayla said incredulously, "What a sleemo! Why did you have to do it anyway?"

Isharia walked into the room, pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, wincing slightly at the sound the metal legs made as they scraped the faux wood. She looked tiredly back up at Shayla and replied, "Seniority mainly. I'm hardly the most qualified person on the project but I've been involved the longest and since I've had the most direct contact with the data, specimens and Jedi -virtues of being Ranil's student-cum-assistant- it falls to me to sort through it all," she leant back on the chair and covered her face with her hands before sliding them down to her neck, "and by the _stars_ ," she moaned, "there's a lot of it."

"Wow, that sucks,"

"Tell me about it," Isharia said with a humourless smile, "luckily it's all done now and I've either sent it to Dr Ranil or stored it on the university systems, although I've kept some of it for myself, it makes for quite an interesting read."

"Really?" Shayla quirked an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"A lot of it's mainly theoretical," she shrugged, "But," she said with a sly smile, "reading through it I have my suspicions that Ranil's sudden move to the Outer Rim was more than just a research change, my theory is that it was the Order's subtle way of saying back off," she said, clasping her hands and resting her chin on them.

"Oh? Why would you say that?" Shayla asked, coming to sit in front of her, lilac eyes sparking with devious curiosity.

"Because, Shayla-dearest, he went to Bandomeer," she answered with a devilish grin.

"Bandomeer?" Shayla said, wrinkling her nose, "What's that got to do with anything? Isn't that a mining world?"

"Indeed, but that's not all that's on Bandomeer."

Shayla's brow furrowed in thought and she gazed intently at her mug of caf, watching the dark liquid swirl as if the answer could be found within its filtered depths. Suddenly her head shot back up and she stared at Isharia with incredulity, " _No way_ ," she breathed in shock, "the _Jedi Agricultural Corps_? That's so sneaky of them!" she exclaimed.

"I know right?" Isharia said with a self-satisfied smirk, "What are the odds that a hitherto unknown lifeform just so _happens_ to be discovered on Bandomeer? And not just any lifeform, one right up Ranil's street, too?"

Shayla shook her head in amazement and laughed delightedly, "I can just see it now, 'Jedi Order Prevents Medical Research, Innocent Scientist Sent Away To Outer Rim,' my editor would love it," she said sweeping one hand out above her to illustrate and grinning impishly at her friend.

"No, Shayla," Isharia sighed, immediately sobering, "you can't write a story about this," she said with a shake of her head.

"Why not?" the Zeltron replied with a put-upon pout.

"Because the only real proof you have are my vague suspicions and some research I really don't want to share."

Shayla sighed heavily, "Well, if you insist. What was the project about anyway?" she asked as she took another sip of her caf.

"Midichlorian research, using midichlorians in medicine," Isharia answered.

Shayla hummed thoughtfully, "Aren't they those things that make someone Force sensitive?" she asked, tapping pursed lips.

Isharia snorted, "Well first of all, they make you _alive_ , Shay," she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

Shayla rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Alright, whatever, why is that so bad though?"

Isharia unclasped her hands and laid them flat on the table, her palms leaving prints on the clear surface, "The premise is fine, the project was based around the idea that since midichlorians are present in all organic matter –down to a cellular level- they can be used to heal. Their presence is intrinsic to life and the theory was that by using a combination of Jedi healing techniques and modern medicine we can coax them into actively working for the good of their host: heal wounds, drive out disease, fix old scars, the possibilities are endless really."

"Wow," Shayla blinked, "that's amazing!" she exclaimed, "Why would the Jedi want to stop that?"

Isharia exhaled heavily, and leant back, "Because the places Ranil's research was going weren't really all that ethical, nor the sort of information you really want going public, and Ranil's a scientist, scientists _publish_."

"Oh?" Shayla enquired with an intrigued frown.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this," Isharia said shaking her head, she then looked directly into Shayla's eyes and continued, "despite not being Force sensitive, Ranil did an awful lot of research into the connection between living things and the Force, he also made an awful lot of postulates that most people would never even _think_ of. I've read his private notes, some of it's crazy. He theorised that the connection between life, the Force and midichlorians could be used to extend someone's life indefinitely if done correctly, a sort of stasis or continual self-healing. Another thing he spoke a lot about was the use of the connection to create life from scratch, Immaculate Conception if you will."

" _By karking Teta,_ " Shayla breathed, " _Immortality_ and _life from nothing_!?" she cried, "What the _Sith_ _Hell_ was that man hoping to do!?"

Isharia shrugged, "Nothing in his notes indicated an intention of _doing_ anything with the information, just knowledge for knowledge's sake," she sighed, "but that's not even the worst of it, some of his latest scribbles and conjectures included hypotheses about bringing things back from the dead."

Shayla let her head fall back to rest on the back of her chair with an explosive sigh, "No wonder the Jedi sent him away if they saw that, that is not the sort of stuff you want circulating. No wonder you kept the notes, too," she said, staring up at the plaster ceiling.

Isharia hummed in agreement. She had been equally shocked when she'd first read the notes, utterly flummoxed by some of the ideas carelessly scrawled across the multitude of random datapads that dotted Ranil's old office. She'd first discovered the writings about two months ago when she'd (sort of) inherited his office after he left for Bandomeer. As the longest running member of the team apart from Ranil himself and some of the Jedi, serving as an intern, third year project student and qualified part-time assistant/scientist, it had fallen to her to go in and sort out all the files.

It had been intimidating at first, there had been seven and a half years' worth of readings, analyses, notes and old requisition forms to sort through –most of which having been left in haphazard piles all around the small space. As part of her job, she'd had to read through every piece: every scuffed and worn datapad, every dry scrap of flimsiplast number-crunching, every tiny forgotten datachip, it all had to be organized. Whereas most people would probably have just sorted through the important looking bits and thrown the rest away, Isharia, feeling unusually motivated, had diligently gone through _every single piece._ It had been by doing this that she'd found Ranil's notes and boy, what a shocker those had been.

Instead of the usual random observations on how well various specimens were doing, what chemical ratios would be needed for buffers, so on and so forth, Isharia had found a treasure trove of advanced theoretical and philosophical workings. Piles and piles of scrap ends and battered datapads filled to the brim with frontier science. It was fascinating. There had been innumerable pages of collected evidence on how the Force worked, how it connected to life and how life responded to it. Citations and complied data stretching back thousands of years' worth of Force study along with treatises and essays on varying Force wielding cultures, how they used the Force and their own descriptions of the science around it; she had even been shocked to find sentences and passages from her own work, from that report Dr Ranil had made her write after that first visit to the temple. Each segment was carefully annotated and expanded on by the man himself, vague links and connections formed between seemingly irrelevant pieces of information working together to form a broader understanding.

It had been the single most interesting thing she'd ever read. She'd been bamboozled by Ranil's sheer genius, the fact that he, a Force-blind researcher, had been able to put together what some thirty thousand years' worth of Brionian Force study hadn't knocked the earth from beneath her feet.

But it also made her worried.

With the taint over Coruscant spreading day by day and the Dark growing steadily stronger the information contained in these mismatched files could be the destruction of everything in the wrong hands. Who knew what could happen if the knowledge of how to gain immortality reached the wrong person? Even in it's purely hypothetical state it was still extremely dangerous, the last time sustained immortality had been achieved, the Sith emperor had inflicted almost two thousand years' worth of death on the galaxy and almost a century of ceaseless and bloody war. Isharia was most certainly _not_ going to let that happen again. Brion remembered the Old Sith Wars much more clearly than the Republic, their devastation imprinted firmly on the cultural psyche of her people. She would rather be spaced into a black hole and be torn apart atom by atom than have anything to do with the wholesale slaughter this sort of information this could lead to.

"Hmm, I wonder what the Jedi said that made him leave?" Shayla murmured thoughtfully.

Isharia absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the table, _'You and me both,'_ she thought. Sighing, she stood up and said decisively, "Right. So, I'm going to go get a shower since _somebody_ was less than complementary about my appearance."

Shayla looked back at her and shrugged, "I make no apologies for the truth."

Isharia glared, _'I'll remember that the next time she dyes her hair yellow,'_ "Anyway, I'll be back in about half an hour, please don't break anything."

Shayla rolled her eyes, "Stars, 'Shar, I'm not a child, I _have_ used your kitchen before, y'know."

She raised both her brows and returned, "Sometimes I do wonder."

Shayla shot her a dirty look and stood up to move back into the kitchen, "Off you go, I'll make you some brunch for when you're out," she said moving her hand in a shooing motion.

Isharia grinned and left for the 'fresher.

-*8*-

After spending some two hours just standing under the pleasant warmth of her shower, Isharia felt slightly more normal. Shayla hadn't been lying when she'd said Isharia had looked as though she'd crawled out from an alley: her mane of white curls had been puffed up in a manic frizz of nigh untameable knots and her face had sported the most horrific pair of panda eyes. Her low-cut marron blouse had been riddled with creases and hung raggedly off one shoulder while her leather trousers had smelt vaguely of cheap spirits. This, coupled with the normal deathly pallor of her skin, had meant that she'd resembled something from a horror-holo more than anything.

It had taken one of those two hours _just_ to deal with her hair. Unfortunately, she'd inherited her father's unruly curls, which were hellish to deal with normally let alone slept on, stiff with hairspray and twisted around all the grips she'd attempted to tame them with. At times like these she really envied her mother, whose silky-smooth locks had hung shiny and straight. Her father's hair had always been short enough that it was easily dealt with, but when Isharia had tried cutting hers Shayla had laughed herself silly at the way stuck out around her head in a bizarre white halo.

After her shower, she headed into her own room to dry off and change. Upon entering she grimaced at the pile of datapads scattered haphazardly across her bed, their shiny black screens glinting in the noonday light.

' _Urgh,'_ she thought with a scowl, _'I forgot about all that.'_

The rest of her room wasn't much better, datapads and random items of clothing were strewn all around the room where she'd flung them last night in her mad dash to get ready to pick Shayla up. She wasn't the most organised of people in general, but years of being fastidiously neat among the Hunters had taught her benefits of tidiness, so while her room was normally somewhat messy, it was never to this extent.

' _This is going to be a pain to clean,'_ she thought eyeing a knocked over perfume bottle with reluctance.

Walking towards the bed, she dropped the towel she was using to dry the ends of her damp hair and stretched over to grab one of the datapads. Picking up the one closest to her, she idly tucked a loose curl behind her ear and typed in the passcode she used for all her work files. The screen briefly flashed electric green before streams of code filled the display in a river of numbers. After a few moments, it settled down and tiny icon files popped up on the black background. Apparently, this was one of the devices she had used to store Ranil's research, humming to herself she tapped the first document open.

 _[NOTE 57]_

 _Pre-RR documents indicate existence of immortal man (Sith(?)), immortality linked to 'Dark Side'?_

 _Master Yoda GM Jedi claims over 900 years standard, longevity linked to Force? Species? No. of midichlorians?_

 _Specimens R & J show definite link between rate of healing and no. of midichlorians, indicative of longer life span too?_

 _Analysis of historical texts infer that ancient Jedi lived longer than natural lifespans, Jedi Code maintains that dying Jedi 'enter the Force', their bodies? Spirits? Souls? What is connection between midichlorians, the host and the Force?_

Isharia sighed and switched off the datapad before throwing it back on the bed where it landed with and muffled _thump_. _'One of Ranil's earlier ones, then,'_ she thought looking over at where it landed, _'All the dangerous stuff is in the later files.'_ Huffing, she reached over and scooped up all the datapads before unceremoniously dumping them on top of her chest of drawers, the gust of air created by the movement blowing her notes off the top in a whirl of flimsiplast.

She glared momentarily at the mess created but made no move to clear it up before grabbing a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt she'd left on the back of her chair and pulling them on. She had foregone to drying her hair (the only person who would see her today being Shayla and Force knows she'd seen her looking _much_ worse) and gave only a cursory glance to the mirror sitting on her dressing table before grabbing the datapad marked _PhD1_ in bold red marker and heading back to the main space.

Smiling briefly to herself at the smell of caf that still hovered in the air, she raised an eyebrow at the sounds of a trashy holo that filtered down the corridor. Walking back into the main part of her apartment she found Shayla sprawled out on her sofa, eyes glued to some tacky reality show with her hand loosely grasping the remote.

Smirking to herself, she crept up behind the distracted Zeltron and leant down so her mouth was right next her ear and said, "So what are you watching?"

Shayla's whole body flinched at the sound of Isharia's voice so close to her ear and her hand flew up to clutch the green fabric of her vest right over her heart. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she sat up and turned around to glare daggers at her friend, "Would you _please_ not do that?" she scolded irritably, forgetting her show.

Isharia merely gave her an innocent look and leant over to cross her arms on the back of the sofa, "You haven't answered my question," she said nodding her head at the HoloScreen up on the wall.

Shayla settled back on the sofa, " _Following the Fendorans_ ," she answered, looking back at the screen, "It's about some utterly ridiculous rich family that live over by the Great Western Sea. They're all completely talentless and bratty but somehow annoyingly successful," she said, gesturing angrily toward the screen where a buxom blonde woman was busy complaining loudly about her boyfriend, "I mean, how do they do it? There is literally _no_ reason for them to be as famous as they are."

"Maybe one of them made a sex tape? Worked for Jorani Sanus."

Shayla scrunched her nose in derision and scowled, "Yeah, but Jorani Sanus is the daughter of a crazy successful property magnate; she was made from the start. If _I_ made a sex tape all that would happen is that it would up on some Zeltron fetish site, it's not as if it would be a unique thing either. Besides," she said with an angry frown, "The only one here with anything to recommend themselves is Fantine Fendoran, and that's only because she's a supermodel."

Isharia rolled her eyes and sighed, "Why do you watch it if you hate them all so much?"

Shayla looked back to Isharia and shrugged, "Sometimes you just gotta feel pity for all the stupid in the galaxy."

Isharia made a noise of disgust and stood back up, looking down at Shayla she said, "I thought you were going to make me brunch."

"Hmm?" Shayla hummed absently, already engrossed in the holoshow again, "Oh, right, yeah. S'over on the table. Made you an omelette with all that gross healthy stuff you keep in your cooler, got out some of that smoothie, too."

"Tah," Isharia threw over her shoulder as she went to sit down and eat.

"Whatever," Shayla returned with a wave of her hand.

Sitting down at her table, Isharia picked up her knife and fork and dug in. Shayla had done well this time, the omelette was delicious: a mix of Bellssan peppers, topatoes, Ojomian onions and roba. As much as Isharia joked about Shayla burning down her kitchen, the Zeltron was an excellent cook and always managed to whip up something scrumptious no matter the ingredients.

Taking a sip of her green veg smoothie, Isharia thought over her plans for tomorrow. The Temple representative should be coming at about midday, some healer by the name of Stass Allie that she'd never met. Some light enquires of the few Jedi researchers and healers that she knew revealed that Master Allie was a respected Tholothian Jedi that sat on the Circle of Jedi Healers, something that did absolutely nothing for her nerves. The fact that someone so high in rank was coming to talk with her set her on edge, the Jedi obviously judged her research as something they needed to seriously debate over, something not particularly surprising considering the subject matter.

However, the main reason for her trepidation was more than just nervous jitters about the future of her research. She'd been working alongside the Jedi for some seven years now and although they all knew she was Force sensitive, none of them had any inkling about anything more. A few of the younger members she'd worked with had even taken it upon themselves to 'teach' her some tricks (nothing particularly useful, but it gave her an excuse when she slipped up and levitated something). But someone of Stass Allie's calibre would be different. As a member of the Circle of Jedi Healers she would be both highly skilled in the Force and incredibly perceptive; her own medical training and Force based first-aid from her Hunter days had taught her that anyone who used the Force to heal had to be incredibly in tune with their patients. This meant that of all the Jedi she'd met, it made Master Allie the most likely to sense the refined nature of her Force presence (thank _Illumin'ar_ she'd never met Master Yoda, she wouldn't last two seconds faced with his abilities).

She frowned as she chewed a forkful of omelette, her shields would have to be impenetrable tomorrow, tighter and more walled up than a high security prison. After swallowing, she quietly sighed, she hated all this secrecy, this inability to exercise her powers to their fullest. But Isharia knew it was the price to pay for being free of Brion, Brionians were possibly the most xenophobic people out there and if the Republic were to discover them they would be downright hostile. It all came back to past dealings Brion had had with the rest of the galaxy, every time anyone from outside the system had come to their planet ruin had followed.

"Hey 'Shar?" came Shayla's voice from behind her, distracting her from her dark thoughts.

"Hmm?" she hummed in reply, scraping up the last bits of her meal.

"What's your research actually on?"

Isharia put her knife and fork down and swivelled round in her seat to look at Shayla in surprise, "I never told you?" she said in disbelief.

"Nope," Shayla replied popping the p, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"Huh," Isharia frowned in consternation, "could've sworn I did," she muttered almost to herself, shrugging lightly she answered, "It's on neurological development in Force sensitives."

Shayla turned away from the screen to look at her in puzzlement, "Neuro-what now?"

"Brain development."

"Why didn't you just say that then?"

"I thought you'd be smart enough to understand," Isharia said rolling her eyes, "obviously I was wrong."

Shayla briefly shot her an unimpressed look before continuing, "Why do you keep talking about it like it's a controversial thing, though? Doesn't sound like it is." She then peered at her with a suspicious frown, "Unless you're sticking rods in Jedi brains or something."

Isharia gave her a flat look, "Yes that's exactly what I'm doing, I'm sticking rods in their brains before pulling them out through their nostrils to store in jars."

Shayla shrugged and switched off the holoscreen, "Stranger things have happened, and anyway, isn't there some religious group in the Outer Rim that does that?"

"I wouldn't know, Shayla," Isharia sighed before getting up to put her dirty plate and cutlery in the dishwasher, shutting the appliance door, she turned around and said, "and the reason I talk about it like it's controversial is because it is. I'm not just studying how brain development progresses and differs between Force sensitives and Force nulls, but also how it differs between Jedi and non-Jedi."

"Yeah, so?" Shayla replied, still unconvinced.

" _So,_ I'm going to be studying brain development in children, Jedi children, who were raised on the Jedi code without parental affection, something that studies _already_ show has a negative effect." Isharia ran a hand through her still damp hair and grimaced, "Currently authorities ignore it -because apparently Force sensitive Jedi children aren't normal children, which is _utter_ banthashit if you ask me- but if my research were to show that there is a significant difference between Force sensitives raised among Jedi and those not, there would be _serious_ ramifications for the Order."

Shayla sat up and gazed at Isharia in shock, eyebrows climbing almost to her hairline, " _Seriously?_ Your research has the ability to completely discredit the _entire_ Jedi Order and have them brought in front of the High Court on _child_ _neglect_ _charges_ ," she let out a low whistle and shook her head in awe, "you, my friend, have balls of _steel_."

Isharia rolled her eyes, "That's not why I'm doing it, Shayla. Personally, I hope that that _isn't_ the outcome, I hardly want to be responsible for the social, moral and political mess _that_ would cause."

"Why _are_ you doing it then?" Shayla inquired, forehead crinkling in confusion.

Isharia leaned back on the counter behind her and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, "I dunno. Just interested I suppose," she said before she pursed her lips in thought, "although if it does turn out something's wrong, I really want it dealt with, plus I hope the information will be useful in the future."

Shayla snorted in disgust, " _Doctors,_ so altruistic, doing it for the future."

Isharia raised her eyes to the heavens, _'Force save me from hedonistic Zeltrons,'_ she thought tiredly as she walked back over to the table to pick up her discarded datapad,

The reasons she'd listed were a fairly accurate assessment of her motives, from her years working at the Temple she had quietly observed many younglings and padawans, watching from the side-lines but nothing more. From just being there she had noticed that, for all their differences, Jedi younglings and Brionian children were brought up fairly similarly. Both groups tended to face disapproval for large displays of emotion (although Brionians more than Jedi) and both were raised to a sort of 'for the good of the whole' approach. She knew from her own experiences that the typical Brionian upbringing didn't exactly make for particularly emotionally mature adults, so she was curious to see how Jedi children were affected.

But also, she wanted examine young Force sensitives though the Force.

That was actually the most dangerous part of her work, because she had to do it without anyone knowing. Jedi were biased towards their own methods and she knew that all Force sensitive children developed incredibly strong Force bonds with their parents, whether their parents were sensitive or not, and she wanted to see what effect severing those vital ties at such young ages had. Isharia knew that the moment she collected enough evidence that something was wrong she would be straight to the High Council, and if that didn't work, Shayla and the HNN. She had the deepest respect for the Order and their purpose, but she would not see the mental wellbeing of children sacrificed at the altar of their fear of the Dark Side.

"Anyway, enough about me, what's happening in the life of Shayla Pavas at the moment?" she said fiddling with the screen.

The Zeltron languorously laid down so she was flat on her stomach with her head resting on her arms and gave a self-satisfied smirk, "Guess who's interviewing the new Nabooan senator for the holonews next week!" she intoned smugly.

Isharia abruptly looked up and blinked in shock, "You? Really? Oh my stars, Shayla! That's amazing!" she cried as her face broke into a beaming smile, "The things that'll do for your career!"

Her friend smiled proudly, "I know right? Editor just came in yesterday and said that Kalan was sick with Findris flu and since I'm the only one at our part of HNN with any background in interplanetary politics I'd be interviewing her."

Isharia shook her head in amazement, "Talk about a lucky break, that's primetime news right there!" she looked back at Shayla and frowned, "You'll need to make it perfect though, especially if you want to do it again."

"I know, I know," Shayla said with a dismissive wave before grinning back at Isharia, "I got to meet her yesterday, you know? Her name's Padmé Amidala and she's _adorable._ "

"Adorable," Isharia repeated drily, quirking an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest.

"Yup, she's this titchy little thing," Shayla said, gesturing with her hand close to the ground, "almost smaller than you –and you're practically a Drall- with these big, brown eyes and curly brown hair, I could just eat her up. Totally _adorable_ ," she gushed.

"I really hope you didn't say that to her face."

Shayla rolled her violet eyes, " _No_ , of course I didn't," she huffed, "but she is like literally the cutest thing ever, looks a bit like how I imagine those…what do you call them? The little things with wings that cause mischief and sit and look pretty."

"Fairies."

Shayla clicked her fingers in triumph, "Fairies! Yeah that's it! She looked like a fairy," she finished with a pleased smile.

Isharia's face tightened with concern, "Well I hope for the Chommell Sector's sake that her personality is better than a fairy's," she said with a frown.

"Nah, they'll be fine, she's the one that was queen when the Naboo incident went down," the Zeltron replied with an airy wave, "she's got dealing with political shavit and doing well under pressure sorted."

Isharia's eyebrows rose in surprise, "Huh," she said quietly, "you'd think she'd want out of politics after that," she commented, her brow puckered with consideration.

Shayla shrugged, rolling over so she was on her back and swiping her blue hair from underneath her so it fanned out on the white fabric like a spill of navy ink, "Maybe she just likes the challenge, I wouldn't know, never been too interested in becoming a politician," she said contemplatively, staring up at the ceiling.

"Thank the stars for that," Isharia commented wryly as she moved to sit on the armchair next to the sofa.

Shayla craned her neck back to level an insulted glower at her friend, "I happen to think I would've made a great politician," she argued, her fuchsia lips pouting in mock offense.

"Shay, the first thing you would've done would be to make orgies mandatory for attractive people –yourself included," Isharia replied flatly

Shayla lips stretched into a feral grin and her eyes glinted somewhat predatorily, "Don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy it," she purred.

"Not all of us are sex addicts," Isharia shot back, switching her datapad on.

Shayla sighed and went back to studying the ceiling, "Your loss," she shrugged.

Isharia raised her eyebrows with a sigh and sank back into the somewhat worn white fabric of her chair to go over her preliminary research plans. If the Jedi gave her the go ahead the first thing she needed to do was establish a sample. Among the Jedi younglings that would be easy enough, even restricted to her own area of specialisation (humanoid and near-human species), the hard part however, was going to be finding Force sensitive children on Coruscant _not_ already snapped up by the Jedi. The extensive midichlorian testing they did at birth in the Core meant that not only was it going to be _extremely_ difficult to find children both not in the Order and fitting her other criteria, but she'd also be facing up to parents and carers that _really_ didn't want those facts advertised.

For her main samples she needed a selection of Order younglings, and also groups of children in stable families and those not, both Force sensitive and blind. The aim of her study was to establish whether Force sensitivity had an effect on the development of the humanoid brain and whether or not the different ways in which Force sensitive children were brought up contributed to their continued growth in regards to their sensitivity. It was a rather ambitious study, and not one that had been done before. For as long as scientists, doctors and philosophers had been researching the nature of life's connection to the Force, no one had thought to do it in regards to neurology. She was quite excited about it to be honest, she'd long wanted to analyse the particulars of the effect Force sensitivity had on a person, especially faced with the conflicting views of the Jedi Order and Brion.

Shooting one last glance at Shayla, who appeared to be dozing, she got to work on refining her research schedule and plans for her appeal to Master Allie tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5: Life and Love

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 4: In Which Life and Love is Pondered

 **A/N: Oh wow, been a looooong time since I've updated here (sorry!), but I commit to finishing all my stories no matter how long it takes. For new readers, enjoy:), for people who have read before I have changed and updated the previous chapters a little, but you might want to read them to refresh anyway. Sorry this has taken so long, just life really, what can you do? Inspiration comes and goes. As with everything I check my own stuff so there are bound to be mistakes, but anyway, enjoy:)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars**

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, Isharia spending most of it refining her research plans and thinking of the best way the convince a Jedi to let her peer into the heads of their initiates, while Shayla ran through her interview strategies for Senator Amidala and caught up on all the junk holos she'd missed.

Eventually though, they did manage to get around to cleaning Isharia's apartment.

Although never the tidiest, the state of her room had been grating on her all day, wearing down her concentration as guilty voices at the back of her mind begged her to clean it. That wasn't even thinking about the mess they had left the in spare room that morning, or all the dirty marks on her floors from the night before.

So after several hours of ignoring it, she had finally had enough.

"I can't take it anymore!" she groaned, throwing the datapad she was reading down on the chair with a huff.

Shayla looked up from where she was lounging on the sofa with her comlink, "Can't take what?" she asked with a frown.

"The mess!" Isharia moaned.

Shayla raised her eyebrows disbelievingly and took an exaggerated look around the apartment before turning back to Isharia, "You can't be serious, you are _literally_ one of the tidiest people I know."

She rolled her eyes and scowled, "Just because you choose to live like a Gamorean in Hutt Space doesn't mean we all do."

Shayla sat up and shot her friend a mildly affronted glare, " _Hey!_ I am _not_ that messy!" she said with an insulted sniff, "And that's an insult to Gamoreans, I happen to know some who are _extremely_ clean!"

Isharia raised both her eyebrows in a clear expression of disbelief ' _Yeah, and nerf's fly,'_ she thought sarcastically, "Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes, "anyway that's hardly the point, my bedroom is a mess because _someone_ called last night and only gave me fifteen minutes to get ready, I wonder who that was, hmm?" she finished with a pointed look in the Zeltron's direction.

They glared at each other few moments before her friend sighed dramatically, " _Fine,_ " Shayla acquiesced, pushing herself up from the sofa with a groan. She stretched her arms out above her head and arched her back in a long yawn, a fuchsia ribbon of skin peeking out where her top rode up, and swung her head around to face Isharia, "Let's go clean your apartment," Shayla said with a long suffering sigh before dropping her arms and striding ahead towards the master bedroom.

They padded down the short hall together in silence, the ever-present hum of city life vibrating in the air around them like a metropolitan heartbeat. Bass pulsed through the walls from the apartment above them and the sirens of security droids whirred outside the windows as they raced through the flow of traffic.

Late afternoon was drifting into early evening on their part of Coruscant and the skylanes were beginning to fill as nine-to-five shifts came to an end. Shops and offices closed as bars and restaurants prepared for the dinnertime rush and the shadier parts of society crept out from the shadows. This was Isharia's favourite time of day. A transition period in which the ordinary humdrum of life melted away into the erratic beat of the night as the youth of Coruscant began to hit the streets.

They got to Isharia's bedroom where to door was still open from where she'd left it earlier and stopped in the doorway. Shayla's eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she surveyed the room in shock, "Wow, you weren't kidding about the mess," she muttered under her breath before walking into the room. She bent down to pick up a handful of flimsi sheets that had been scattered on the floor and flicked through them absently, "What even is all this stuff?" she asked, waving it towards Isharia who was still standing by the door.

Isharia scowled and walked over to grab the pile of flimsiplast from Shayla's raised hand, shuffled it and placed it on the chest of drawers, "My notes," she answered with a touch of defensiveness.

Shayla snorted, "Nice to know your handwriting's still as atrocious as ever," she commented, eyes drifting around the room. They stopped as they fixed on something by the dressing table, widening slightly with surprise before flicking back to Isharia accompanied by an almost pitying look.

"What?" Isharia asked slowly, eyeing Shayla warily from where she had begun to sort out the clothes strewn across her floor.

"Tut, tut, tut, 'Sharia," Shayla scolded lightly, shaking her head.

" _What_?" she asked again with a bit more force.

Shayla strode over to the dressing table, picking up something white that had been flung across the back and waved it around like a banner. "This, _this,_ is the sort of bra you've been wearing?" she said, nose crinkling in disgust as she looked at it as if it were an affront to her personally.

Isharia flushed with embarrassment, _'Since when was that her business?'_ she scowled internally, the red rapidly flooding her pale skin as her dark eyes narrowed, "Put that down, Shayla," she ordered angrily walking over to grab the aforementioned piece of underwear.

Grinning, the Zeltron nimbly ducked under Isharia's outstretched arm and danced away to the other side of the bed, the glee written across her face. "Oh no, Isharia, you're not getting away that easily," she said with a devious grin, brandishing the piece of fabric like a sword, "this has _got_ to be the reason you don't get laid."

Isharia's lips downturned in a scowl as she dived across the bed towards Shayla, knocking some of the datapads piled there to the floor, "We are _not_ having this conversation," she stated forcefully, balancing on her left hand and reaching out with her right.

" _I think we are_ ," Shayla sing-songed as she danced away from Isharia's grabbing hand with a grin, leaving it to pass through empty air.

Upon missing her target, Isharia's promptly lost her balance and tumbled to the bed with a grunt. Huffing, she rolled over onto her back and grimaced at the way the rounded edges of the datapads dug into her spine, shifting to get more comfortable she exhaled wearily, "I don't want a string of meaningless lovers, Shayla, and I hardly have time for a relationship at the moment, I have far too much to do at work," she said tiredly, staring up at the blank white of the ceiling, running her eyes over the tiny fissures in the plaster, _'Plus I hardly want to be obliged to open up to someone, good relationships aren't built on lies,'_ she thought, and scowled _'and anyway, I don't need a_ man _to validate my existence.'_

" _Pffft_!" Shayla blew out with frustration, flopping down on the bed next to her, "It's always work with you, and if it's not that it's study," she said with disgust. Sighing, she sobered and looked over to Isharia with tired eyes, "When are you going to learn that there's more to life than work? You already sped through your medical degree to get your license early, Miss Overachiever, you don't need to do the same with this one," she said, face tight with concern, "you'll burn yourself out before you're thirty."

Isharia stubbornly avoided looking at her friend and her hands clenched tightly into the quilt, _'Yeah, but the more I devote myself to helping people, be that by practising medicine or studying it, the less time I have to think about my previous job -amongst other things,'_ she thought sardonically, studying the white plaster above her intently.

They lay there together in silence, listening to the speeders float past outside until Isharia took a deep, resigned breath, "I'll be fine," she finally said, flicking her gaze to her friend who was eying her worriedly, "I'll find someone in my own time, besides," she said, sitting up and looking down at Shayla, "I'll be spending most of my time around children and Jedi, and that's hardly conducive to romance."

Shayla smirked at that and waggled her eyebrows salaciously, "Oh I don't know," she hummed, "all those Jedi with their lightsaber toned muscles and chivalry complexes, there's got to be _someone._ "

"Pur- _lease_ ," Isharia snorted, "As attractive and toned as they may be, attachments are against the Code, and I am _not_ playing second fiddle to a bunch of thousand-year-old rules," she stated firmly.

"Yeah, but illicit, star-crossed romances are the best type!" Shayla exclaimed, pulling herself up to sitting position and clasping her hands with a grin. She knocked her shoulder into Isharia's playfully, "And anyway, ain't no code that stood against the power of feminine wiles," she finished with a smirk, "now are we going to clean this place or what?"

They spent the next few hours completely cleaning the apartment top to bottom, sorting out all the clean clothes thrown around the room and stripping off the dirty, makeup stained sheets in the spare room. They were distracted briefly when they uncovered an old holoalbum they'd filled in their first year of university, giggling madly over images of failed dates and wild nights out and smiling fondly at their younger faces.

' _Force, how different things were then! I'd only been off Brion for a little under a year, everything was still so new,"_ Isharia thought gazing down at younger, brighter eyes.

She put the album back on the shelf with reluctance, promising herself to look through it later and directed Shayla towards the floor by the front door. The space there was littered with a trail of dirty footprints from where they'd tracked in all manner of gunk from the lower levels the night before. Luckily none of it smelt so they'd fortunately managed to avoid standing in anything truly foul, but the stains were still an unpleasant shade of murky brown.

Shayla watched with a bored expression as Isharia wheeled her cleaning droid over to the mess and turned it on, it's optical sensors lit up blue as it came alive and chirped a few tweets of happy binary at them.

"I know, I know," Isharia laughed in reply, "It's nice to see you too," she told it with a soft smile, watching as it sped off to clean the mess.

"Why didn't we just use that earlier," Shayla complained, eying the droid with an unhappy expression as it cleaned the floors much quicker than they would have.

Isharia's lips spread in a wide, toothy smile before replying cheerily, "Cleaning builds character! And Effbee isn't my personal maid."

Shayla shot her a flat look in response and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated arc, "Uh, he's a _cleaning droid_ , yes he is."

Choosing not to answer, Isharia hopped up onto the kitchen counter and gave her friend a once over, taking in the tired shadows under her eyes and the exhausted, frazzled edge to her Force presence. "Wanna tell me about last night?" she said changing the subject.

Shayla winced slightly and looked away with a pained grimace, "I was waiting for that," she turned her head back and ran gold nails through her ponytail, sighing resignedly, "Go on then, let me have it, I can tell you've been waiting to all day."

Isharia's lips puckered and eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl, "This isn't funny, Shayla," she reprimanded, "the sort of dosage you ingested would've killed most species judging by how quickly it affected you." She huffed and ran an aggravated hand through her bird's nest of curls, making the strands frizz up even more, "You could've have _died,_ Shayla, and we would have been too far away from any competent help for it to make _any_ difference," she finished, her knuckles tense and clenched and her dark eyes swimming with helpless frustration.

She loved Shayla, she really did, but sometimes the consequences of her friend's actions put a weight on her that she really could've done without. It was times like these that she wondered if it was all really worth it in the end. If the worst had happened down in the underworld last night, even with all her years of study there would have been nothing she could've done.

"It's not even just that, Shayla!" she bit out angrily, "This is hardly the first time it's happen and as much as I pray to all the gods of the galaxy, it's not going to be the last!" Isharia looked at her friend beseechingly, "Don't you realise what you're doing to yourself?" she pleaded, leaning forward in her desperation for Shayla to understand, "One day it's not going to go straight through your system, or I'm not going to be around to stop someone taking advantage, and then what?"

Shayla guiltily ducked her head to the side and looked down at the ground, wringing her hands together in nervous, jerky motions, "It's not as if I'm not aware of how dangerous it is, or of the risks I take," she said quietly, " _It's_ _just-_ " she made a frustrated noise and gesticulated wildly before sighing and lifting her pale eyes to meet Isharia's dark ones, "You don't understand!" she ground out, "Sometimes when I'm in a club or a bar, or anywhere really that's crowded, my empathy gets out of control. It's like being drunk or high. Suddenly there's all this _sensation_ and _feeling_ around me and it's too much to process sometimes, it makes me more suggestible and it makes me stupid."

' _That's why!?_ That's _why?'_ Well no wonder Shayla kept getting into all these dangerous and _utterly avoidable_ situations if that was what was happening -it also explained a lot about the famed Zeltron gullibility. Put like that, Isharia could almost understand the obliviousness that led her friend into trouble, having felt the same emotional high herself to begin with. Without sufficient mental shielding, anyone trained in the Force would be equally overwhelmed by large amounts of intense emotions in a relatively small space.

In the bowels of the city, deep in the Entertainment District it was a feeling of ecstasy: of _euphoria_ and _bliss_. An intense cocktail of whirring pleasure that sunk like narcotics through your veins, twisting and writhing, addictive and intense. It was _oblivion_ and _abandon_ ; a madness that made you want to sink in and drift away.

If Shayla felt even a degree of what she could through the Force with her empathy, Isharia could hardly blame her for her dangerous stunts, although it left her with a sickened queasy feeling in her stomach as she thought of all the hours they had spent in the Entertainment District over the years.

Isharia exhaled slowly, forcing herself to push her all anger and worry into the Force and took a moment to centre herself. "Why don't you just stop going to these places then?" she asked with genuine curiosity as she tried to force the overwhelming concern away.

The Zeltron tossed her hair and snorted inelegantly in reply, "And spend all my time around the misery of the rest of Coruscant? Yeah, _no._ " She walked over to the breakfast bar and leant back against it, drumming her nails rhythmically against the synthetic stone surface and let her eyes drift and become unfocused, "How do I explain this?" she hummed absently, looking into the distance.

She sighed and looking back at Isharia, began, "There's a reason Zeltros is a pleasure planet and why our species is famous for hedonism, a lot of it comes back to our empathetic abilities." Her brow crinkled in thought and she crossed her arms over her chest, "Most biologists and anthropologists think that Zeltron empathy originally evolved in order for prehistoric individuals to better communicate and understand each other, becoming more efficient hunter gatherers and allowing for the survival of the race," she shrugged and inclined her head, "But you already knew that."

Isharia tilted her head in assent, "Yeah, most humanoid species have adaptations to allow for better group work, strength in numbers and all that."

Shayla wrinkled her nose and made a soft noise of derision, "Yeah, well, problem with empathy is that it became more of a burden than a blessing. Do you how hard it is feeling everyone's stresses and worries, and all the little things that make you upset every day?" She closed her eyes and gave a low, self-deprecating laugh, "It karking sucks!"

Isharia gaped at her "Stars and moons, Shayla!" she exclaimed, horrified, "Why in the galaxy have you never told me this? Force, I feel like such a shavit friend for not noticing!"

Force, she felt awful, it was a sinking, cold feeling, like gravity had sudden centralised to her hands and feet as she thought about all the years Shayla had been holding it in. The average person knew nothing of shielding their mind from outside influence; their emotions would be easily picked up by someone like Shayla who was naturally attuned to the feelings of others, _Illumin'ar_ , sometimes even she caught snatches of other people's mental states when she let her guard down, and she had years of specialised training!

"Oh Force no! It's got nothing to do with you!" Shayla quickly amended, waving her hands wildly up in front of her face, physically rejecting the notion. Dropping them, she shrugged, "It's just not something Zeltrons really talk about, I mean it's not like we can't handle it, it's just more comfortable for us to be around people who are happy."

"That may be, but kriff if being friends with you for all these years and not noticing doesn't make me feel like rancor slime."

"It's fine, I wouldn't expect you to know, but now you have my, well… _excuse_ for my actions last night at the club."

Isharia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in consternation, "I understand, but _please, for the love of all that is sacred, always_ be supervised and just _try_ to avoid any more repeats of last night," she looked her friend directly in the eyes and glared fiercely, "and this conversation is not over, not by a long shot."

Shayla gave her a resigned look and quirked a brow, "Didn't expect it to be, I know you too well for that."

Casting her eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer for deliverance, Isharia slowly exhaled, "Are you staying for dinner tonight?" she asked.

Shayla's face scrunched up in disgust, "And eat that weird salad thing I saw in your cooler earlier, _noooooo_ thankyou!" She danced over to where a carrier bag full of her dirty clothes lay on the sofa and grabbed it, sauntering back over to the front door, "Take me home, Jeeves! I have deep fried Rylothi goodness back in _my_ cooler with my name on it!" she called out, purple eyes twinkling with mirth.

Isharia gagged at the thought of all that fat in one meal before following Shayla to the front door. She said a quick goodbye to Effbee -much to Shayla's amusement- and quickly typed in the passcode to unlock the door and watched as it slid open. The faint damp smell of mould and neglect hit their noses as they stepped out into the dreary hall and they stood for a moment as the door slid shut behind them, clicking as the deadlock fell into place.

"It's always weird just how miserable the rest of this building is compared to your place," Shayla commented, grimacing at the flickering industrial light on the ceiling.

"That's because for skyside, this place is cheap as dirt," Isharia said as she started off down the corridor, "anything nice in my apartment came from yours truly, you would not believe what it looked like before I got here."

Shayla shuddered, "I can imagine."

They spent the journey to Isharia's speeder in companionable silence, the sort of comfortable quiet that comes from years spent in each other's company. The lift was empty, the carpark too; a dull, lifeless air hanging around the place where even the atmosphere had been ground down over years of drab monotony.

Her speeder was exactly where she had left it the night before, looking at little grimy from the alleyway it had been parked in last night but otherwise unharmed. She unlocked it with her handprint and the two of them slid inside. Breathing at satisfied sigh and the pleasant hum of the engine -and ignoring Shayla's exasperated look- she manoeuvred it out of the car park and it the evening sky.

It was a beautiful evening, the sky was splattered with an aurora of fire that glimmered and shined on the age-dulled durasteel. In the west, the rays of Coruscant Prime speared through the gaps between buildings and gleamed off speeders.

Isharia drove at a sedate pace through the lines of traffic, hovering alongside other vehicles as they rode the stream. This particular lane fed onto the larger Coruscant traffic network that spanned the entire planet, a system of interlocking autonavigated routes that rose high above the surface.

Shayla's building was about two hours away from her own along the Skyway, back more towards Zhell District and the HoloNet hubs. Shayla, unlike herself, had been unable to find an affordable flat skyside so made do with what she called her 'shoebox': a cosy, well kept, apartment some 20 levels below what passed for ground level these days. As was the norm on the capital planet, every few centuries ground level rose another few floors or so; as a result, the oldest parts of Shayla's apartment were well over a thousand years old.

As they entered the Skyway and the autonavigation came online Isharia leant back in her seat; reaching over to fiddle with the dashboard display, she switched the radio on and let out a deep sigh as the soft notes of a Cathar love song drifted through the speakers. It was a nice tune, had been number one on the charts for a few weeks a while back, but now it had become so horribly overplayed that it was more irritating than anything.

Beside her Shayla groaned, "Ugh, not this song again!" she whined.

Isharia shot her an amused glance, "What, doesn't ' _love take you to the stars'_ , Shayla?" she sang along in awfully accented Cathar.

Shayla scowled and tapped her long nails on the speeder door, "Oh, come on!" she said, "Even you've gotta admit that they play this _way_ too often, and it's too sappy by half," she finished with a derisive snort.

Isharia chuckled softy, the sound gentle against the Coruscanti sunset and wrinkled her brow in thought, "I'll have to admit that calling someone 'the missing part to my soul that I yearned for as I drowned in the dark' is a bit much, but the premise is nice enough."

"If someone wrote me such drippy rubbish I'd be out of there faster than a Balmorran szarka lizard."

Isharia tutted and sighed, "You're such a romantic, Shay."

The Zeltron rolled her eyes and crossed her arms defensively, "I can be romantic, I just choose not to be. Besides, why on Coruscant should I limit myself to just one person?" She grinned devilishly and turned to Isharia, waggling her eyebrows wickedly, "There are so many delicious specimens in the galaxy and who I am to deny them a piece of this?"

"And yet earlier you were urging me to do just that," Isharia replied, an unimpressed look etched on her face.

Shayla scoffed and uncrossed her arms, "Yeah but that's _you_ ," she said, emphasising the 'you' with a poke to Isharia's shoulder and a fond smirk. "You, you strike me as the strictly monogamous type, always have always will. I mean, when you were with Jentin, Malish Praji was practically throwing himself at you at that bar and you wouldn't even give him the time of day! And that man has more money than several systems and is a definite ten to boot! Even Jentin thought you were stupid for refusing!"

Isharia shot Shayla a disapproving glare, "I was in a relationship, I wasn't going to just run off with someone because they had money."

Shayla gave her an incredulous look, "But he was _nice,_ Isharia. Like, _genuinely nice_. Do you know how hard it is to find hot billionaires that are actually decent people? Impossible. That's how hard."

"Doesn't change the fact that I was unavailable."

"Pfft!" Shayla exhaled, "Jentin probably would have asked if he could join you, man looked like he would sell his first son for a chance with a Praji."

Isharia scowled, her dark eyes narrowing as she turned back to face the windscreen, watching the carefully moderated traffic drift by more intently than it deserved, "I know," she said darkly, "That's why we broke up."

Shayla sat up abruptly and gaped at her, her eyes wide with surprise, " _That's_ why you broke up!? Because Jentin had a crush on House Praji?"

Isharia grimaced and focused determinedly on the speeders in front of her as she thought back on her latest serious relationship, _'It would have been nice if it was just that,'_ she thought.

Jentin had been outwardly perfect: an intelligent, fairly attractive Mirialan and pretty much the opposite of whatever pretentious noble she would've been set up with back home. He'd been a consultant, working for one of Coruscant's many accountancy firms and they'd met through one of Shayla's mutual friends at an All-Species Week party. They'd hit it off over some wine and a discussion on senate funded unsustainable mining practises (something that had had Shayla rolling her eyes and walking away) and had spent the rest of the night talking. They'd met up for dinner a few times afterwards, gone out for drinks, and before long they'd been officially a couple. They'd been together a year when the cracks had started to show: small things at first, comments about how much time she spent at work, complaints about the way he flirted with the girls at his office and it had escalated from there. The incident with Malish Praji had just been the final straw.

Isharia honestly just hadn't been able to see herself with someone who so was so willing to encourage her to pursue other people. Brionians were a strictly monogamous race, betrayal was _the_ biggest cultural taboo; the way in which her people married made it physically impossible to cheat.

Married couples on Brion were bound together through the Force by a priest or priestess, woven so tightly together that it was almost impossible to tell them apart. They were joined completely, for better or for worse, and the nature of these bonds and their unbreakable strength made it physically impossible to betray your spouse: not when you pretty much shared a mental space.

It may have seemed cruel from an outside perspective, but her people weren't human and when they fell in love, it was final.

"We _broke up_ because he obviously didn't value our relationship as much as I did," Isharia replied tersely.

And Jentin hadn't. When Isharia entered relationships, it was always with the intent of finding a life partner, and although they would never share a Brionian marriage bond (something she secretly mourned) she would settle for no less than the loyalty it inspired.

Shayla, on the other hand, was different.

"See!" Shayla cried triumphantly, pointing her finger and beaming, "You are a one-man-woman!"

" _And?"_ Isharia bit out, feeling a little aggravated now.

Shayla shrugged, "And nothing. You do you and all that," she said, with an absent wave of her hand, "I have zero concern with the way you choose to have relationships, 'Shar, I honestly just want you to have something outside of work, you and Jentin broke up two years ago and you haven't even _looked_ at anyone since. You're going to run yourself into the ground in the lab. You practically live there," Shayla finished with a disapproving sigh.

" _I do not!"_ Isharia squawked, feeling a little defensive now as she glared at the skylane in front of her.

Shayla raised an unimpressed brow, "Oh really?" she said with a with a bland look, "Remind me again how many friends you have outside of me?"

Isharia's scowl grew fiercer as Shayla's questioning continued, "That's hardly a problem," she said, folding her arms, "I don't _need_ more friends, Shay, I'm fine as I am. Besides, my work is important."

Shayla sighed and sunk down in her seat, rubbing at her forehead in irritation and smoothing out the non-existent lines in her brow, "Whatever," she said with the air of someone fed up with the topic, "you continue as you are, Isharia, just don't come running to me when at the end of the day all you have is test results."

"Fine," Isharia said sharply, signalling the end of the conversation.

Shayla sighed quietly and shook her head before pulling out her com unit and scrolling through her various social media feeds. Isharia too sighed and tuned her head to stare out the window, watching the setting sun disappear and reappear between the durasteel towers of Coruscant.

She felt oddly melancholic -most likely a product of her discussion with Shayla- and the descending sunbeams of the coming twilight seemed decidedly atmospheric. Distractedly gazing out the speeder window, she felt a little like a character on a holodrama before mentally chiding herself for being overly dramatic.

The rays of light illuminated tiny dancing particles of dust, swirling lazily through the speeder, and Isharia quietly stretched out with the Force to run insubstantial hands through them, feeling the miniscule particulates as little pinpricks in her third eye. The radio hummed softly in the background, a slow indie tune now, and the silence her and Shayla sat in became a quiet, gossamer thing, delicate like yanki'mi thread and idle in the light.

A tranquil sort of calm sung softly through the ancient ecumenopolis. Isharia, still open to the Force, felt its complex harmony flow through her bones as her eyes closed and sensed, rather than heard, it whisper through reality. A metaphysical orchestra of conjectural instruments that interwove in the melody of the universe, and beautiful rhythm of _here_ and _now_ and _never_ that bounced across the stings of fate. But there, underneath, one discordant note that rang out of place in the tapestry of the Force.

A single haunting chime that echoed in the dying light of day.

-*8*-

After delivering Shayla back home and acceding to promises to _please, please_ call her after her meeting with Stass Allie the next day, Isharia chose to take the long route home. She guided her speeder on a lengthy circuitous route just below surface level, and twisted and turned through the shadows of ancient towers. She hummed a Brionian ditty under her breath as she drove, and distractedly watched the city go by, trusting the Force to guide her actions.

She was tired and overworked and seriously disliked the Coruscanti five-day week. She hadn't had a proper holiday in months and although she couldn't really afford it, she had caught herself looking up resort worlds on the net before staunchly reminding herself that she had work to do.

But Rion _did_ look perfectthis time of year.

Gritting her teeth against her own temptation, Isharia looked around outside for some sort of distraction. Glancing out of the passenger window, she caught sight out of the corner of her eye of a drive-through CafShack and breathed a sigh of relief, that was _exactly_ what she needed.

Checking with her mirrors and loosely through the Force, she made sure there was no one coming and indicated to turn into the lane. Pulling up to the window, she pressed a button to roll down her own window and leant out to order.

Looking upwards, she was greeted by a bored looking human teenager with fluffed up hair in a faded green uniform, "Welcome to CafShack," he said tonelessly, a deadened glaze over his brown eyes, "the best caf this side of Charra, what can I get for you?"

The poor boy looked patently uninterested in what she had to say and she felt a twinge of sympathy for him, it couldn't have been interesting working here, this wasn't exactly Coco Town. She got a brief flash then through the Force of a harried looking human woman bearing resemblance to the boy yelling something about getting off a backside and couldn't help but smirk.

' _Well'_ she thought wryly, _'that answers a question I didn't have.'_

Isharia gave the boy bland smile, "I'll have a two shot traladon milk latté with takhal nut syrup, thanks," she ordered.

The boy keyed it lazily into his console and looked back at her, "That'll be three-creds-seventy-five then please," he replied.

Isharia waved her card in front of the automated scanner and listened for the confirmation bleep. Hearing it, she tossed her card into the glove compartment and looked back up at her server.

He nodded to himself a little and waved her on, "If you'd like to proceed to the next window to pick up your purchase, have a nice day and thank you for choosing CafShack," he said, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else.

Isharia pulled her speeder slowly around the drive through lane and sighed to herself. She wondered why this place didn't use droids, they were a far cheaper source of labour for common food chains like CafShack; skyside pretty much everything vaguely labour intensive was done by droids. Well, unless you went to one of the super fancy restaurants that is, the ones that only really catered to the mega-rich and politicians. Which she didn't.

Honesty, it was probably because the lower you went below the surface, the scarcer decent jobs got. It was likely they employed organics down here because otherwise there would be nothing, and this was only sixty levels down, Coruscant had over five thousand in total.

Isharia used trips like this to remind herself just how lucky she was. She had come to Coruscant with absolutely nothing besides a few changes of clothes and her inheritance, which had been monstrously difficult to exchange into Republic credits. It would have been very easy for her to end up like the people down here and those even lower down: either stuck in a dead-end job or turning to less legal means of employment to survive. It was only really her falsified credentials (which had _not_ been cheap) that had allowed her to get where she was. She thanked the ridiculously complicated Republic bureaucratic system daily for letting her slip under the radar.

She stopped outside the next window and collected her caf from another bored teenager and placed it the cup holder next to her, enjoying the aromatic scent of it as it filled her speeder. She would freely admit that caf was one of her favourite things about not being on Brion, the bitter beverage had been her best friend while she'd studied for her medical license and she probably would have built an altar to it if that hadn't been too weird.

She pulled away unhurriedly from the CafShack and went back to lazily drifting through the darkening gloom of the upper underworld, taking sips of her caf every so often. She wasn't in any particular hurry to get back, knowing the moment she did she would be swamped with work, so contented herself with the scenic route.

The upper underworld of Coruscant was pretty much a nowhere: high enough to have some modicum of civilization, low enough for the people above not to care. Unlike where she and Shayla had been the night before (some two thousand levels below the surface) this place didn't ooze the rank slime of neglect, buried and corrupted by millennia of lost souls and galactic scum. No. This, and the five hundred or so levels below it, felt apathetic: a void of nothing where dreams came to die. It felt in the Force sluggish and dull, a bland steady grey where no one aspired to more and people were swept away in the vast ocean of the city and left to drown in the nothingness.

It felt, well, depressing.

Isharia couldn't say she liked it down here, but at least you knew here that you wouldn't be robbed -people just didn't care enough.

Deciding to get at least some enjoyment out of her day before she went back to stressing about tomorrow, she activated her personal companion system, "Vanla?" she called, "Is there anywhere around here to just sit? Like a Prosper Park or something?"

The same holographic felinx from her alarm clock popped up in the middle of her speeder with a pout, _"Oh, so_ now _we're talking?"_ she said snidely, crossing her arms and levelling a glare at Isharia.

Isharia rolled her eyes, " _No_ is _that_ what we're doing? I hadn't guessed," she replied equally sarcastic, barely sparing a glance in Vanla's direction. "Well?" she said, "Is there anywhere?" she asked pointedly.

The felinx huffed and puffed out her tail, " _Yes,_ " she said moodily, _"there's a Prosper Park about ten minutes away if you follow this route."_ On the windscreen, the road in front was suddenly overlaid with a hazy blue band that lit it up and marked out the way ahead, following the skylane until it turned right somewhere in the distance. In the top corner, a tiny map of the sector appeared with the path programmed in and tracked her progress with a small orange dot.

"Thanks," Isharia nodded, "deactivate."

The felinx hologram stuck her tongue out at her before disappearing once more.

Isharia sighed to herself, why did she buy that thing again?

Vanla was an interesting purchase. She was a Gowix system, a personal digital companion (PDC) that could be installed into an individual's home and electronic systems in order to act as a sort of PA. PDCs were relatively new systems, and had only recently become available to the public at large, but they were dead useful: Vanla organised her schedule, sorted her mail, managed her bills and regulated her home systems. Isharia had, of course, hired a member of the university's tech department to make her completely unsliceable first, but Vanla, for all that she complained about her, was possible the most useful thing she owned.

Vanla was no HAIS, being only semi-sentient rather than a true AI, but she helped somewhat with occasional bouts of homesickness too.

Following the route Vanla had found, Isharia drove along the skylanes until she came across large courtyard amongst the skyscrapers, opening up to the now dark sky. Above the courtyard, brightly lit speeders soared above in precise points of light and the windows of buildings formed glowing mosaics. In the centre of the courtyard, was a large domed building made of grimy duresteel. The walls of it were etched with long faded patterns of flowers and graffiti crawled across the base.

' _This'll do,'_ Isharia thought eying it, _'It's only 8pm, I have a least an hour to spare,'_ and she shrugged and drove toward it.

She pulled her speeder into the speederpark next to the dome and got out, setting the lock function to activate. It was chilly now, with the level open to the sky it allowed the cooling night air to breeze down the courtyard and into the lower levels. It was coming up to winter, and although the weather on Coruscant was entirely artificial, it was nice sometimes for it to reflect how the climate would have naturally played out.

Isharia though, for obvious reasons, hated the cold; coming from a world pretty much entirely covered by ice would do that for you. She stubbornly pulled her jacket closer around her and scowled into the dim light, shivering a little at the cold fingers of wind playing over her exposed skin. She tucked her cooling fingers under her arms and quickly headed toward the brightly illuminated door of the dome, anxious to get out of the cold.

Entering the building, she breathed a sigh of contentment as the humid air of the park hit her and the artificial sun on the holographic ceiling streamed down. This particular park had apparently been modelled after a jungle world: towering thin trees with garish fluorescent leaves soared over her head and the floor was dotted with bluish moss that pulsed when stepped on.

Prosper Parks like this one were scattered throughout the upper underworld, the vanity project of some senator from a couple of centuries back. Their purpose was supposedly so that the city dwellers who would never leave Coruscant could get a glimpse of real nature, to provide spaces where those with no future could get together and relax, but the whole thing had stunk of pretentiousness and so most never used them. People down here could tell when they were just being used for a publicity stunt and were not welcome to it, it was false concern and unwanted interference from people who didn't really care.

Isharia rather liked them, as much as she also disapproved of the shallow insensitivity that had built them. She herself had grown up in a city, had never really seen true wilderness and nature in real life; Sing'dai had had gardens like this one, her building and the palace had had many too, but it wasn't the same.

She walked slowly through the undergrowth, shucking off her jacket in the heat and draping it over her arm. She breathed in the subtly sweet smell of wet earth and decaying leaves with a smile and ran her fingers along the rough tree bark. The Force was serene and lively here, a thriving pool of life that wove through the sleepy signatures of the trees. The ground squelched and sunk beneath her feet as Isharia clambered further into the park, seeking the most remote part. There were a few people here, bright pulses of thought that felt strange against the simple texture of the plant life, but no more than about ten.

Isharia rather liked the solitude of this particular park, the shaded bowers of the trees and the relative silence of it offered the illusion of aloneness, something that was rather novel living the way people did on this planet: pushed together like packed marmal with only a few square metres to spare. If she shut herself off from the Force, she could almost pretend she was far away, lost among the forests of some distant world, isolated and free. Otherwise, she was forever aware of the trillion other beings on Coruscant, existing in the endless infinity of the Force.

She stopped when she felt far enough away from the other visitors of the park, sitting down with a thump against a tree, she stretched her legs out in front of her, feeling the dampness of the mud sink unpleasantly into the fabric of her trousers. The humid air caused beads of sweat to gather on her pale skin, but not as much as they would if she were human, Brionians were slightly better acclimatised to higher temperatures after all.

She pulled out datapad from her jacket pocket and switched it on, it was another of Ranil's, this time a rather comprehensive study of midichlorians. She skimmed it while she rested.

 _[NOTE 132]_

 _Experiment 12_

 _Midichlorians appear reactive in conjunction with Jedi healing crystals, measurable stimulation occurs in the cells at the site of injury when healing crystals are introduced (see results under file R37). Microbes in the cells appear to cluster around the nucleus, perhaps prompting accelerated cell division? They must perform some sort of error screening process during DNA replication in cells, to regulate the accelerated healing they cause. Effect is stronger in Jedi, more midichlorians in cells, the faster the healing, more to react to crystals. Similar seen when Jedi directly apply Force energies to patients._

 _Midichlorians facilitate the connection between the energy field known as 'the Force' and its practical applications in the physical world. Through it much it possible._

 _If the midichlorians can accelerate cell division for healing without cell becoming cancerous with the application of the Force (type of Force energy? Direction from user?) it stands to reason that they could be used to do this permanently with the correct application. Relative invulnerability._

 _Could they be used to cure damage related causes of ageing related to DNA degradation? They can apparently prevent dangerous mutations in cells. What about genomic instability, telomere attrition, epigenetic alteration, etc?_

 _Can they alter the DNA itself?_

Isharia smoothed her fingers over her eyebrows in thought as she read. Much of this was new, most scientists were wary of the Force on principle, many more doubted its existence. The Force, and its users, mattered little to ordinary people, it had been surprising in the first place that Dr Ranil had chosen to study it. Most scientists didn't regard it as any more than 'Jedi wizardry'.

The Order had done their own studies of course, but much of that was secret and they were wary of studying the science of what they did for whole other reasons. The potential for Darkness, the allure of the power the application of it could bring. In the past, it had always been the Sith that had pushed the boundaries of Force science: alchemy and its complimentary studies, the Sorcerers of old.

Isharia scowled darkly at the thought, Sith alchemy had done great and terrible things to her world, the Jedi were right to be wary.

There was also the ethical issue, midichlorians were known in the circles that studied them to be sentient and hive-minded, messing with them went against most, if not, all regulations regarding experimentation on living beings.

Brionians had obviously done their own studies, but again scholars were fiercely secretive regarding their results and it was pretty much impossible to get them to release their findings to the public. Even if they were willing, the ruling council and the queen were usually there to stop the information getting out.

Isharia switched off the datapad and stuffed it back in her pocket. Something told her that someday soon the information she possessed would be worth ten times its weight in spice, the galaxy was changing and that Dark web was only getting thicker.

But for now, she had more pressing things to worry on.


	6. Chapter 6: Master Allie

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 5: Master Allie

 **A/N: Look at me on a roll! This was way longer than intended and didn't quite get to where I wanted but oh well, hopefully you still like. If you spot any problems with continuity, the medical stuff I put in (which I got from the internet) or anything, do point it out. Also I check my own work so there will be mistakes, apologies, but as ever, enjoy!:)**

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars is not my property**

* * *

She woke the next morning to the rhythmic white noise of a rainstorm thrumming outside: the drops drumming against her windows and the rattling groans of the wind as it swirled past. She groaned, _'Urgh, it must be early if Vanla hasn't gone off yet,'_ she thought tiredly, pulling herself to sit up and running a hand over her face. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head and uncurling her fingers like a tooka, whining a little at the satisfying feeling.

With the curtains closed, her bedroom was still dark, but the dim illumination slipping through the gaps told her it was still quite early, either that or the clouds were obscuring the sun. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, she never liked being awake earlier than she needed to be, but she supposed today it could be a good thing: it gave her time to collect herself before heading out, today was important after all.

Rolling out of bed, she padded over to the window and drew back the curtains, revealing the slate grey sky and wet glass behind. She appraised it apathetically, while it was hardly the nicest of weather, (wet she didn't mind but _cold…_ ) she wasn't overly bothered. They were overdue some rain anyway, there hadn't been a proper storm on her part of Coruscant for some time now, and since one had appeared over the Financial District last week, she had guessed her district was next on the list.

She watched, still half asleep, as the early morning weather raged outside her bedroom and almost drifted off again to the methodical pounding of the rain. The morning was a dreary one: the sky was a limp, wet grey and the air looked damp with cold. The wind, usually so light and predictable, howled its way through the looming towers of Galactic City and rainwater dripped and pooled into dirty puddles by the sides of buildings.

Deciding she might as well get a move on, she lazily wandered to her kitchen to fetch a cup of caf and sat down in front of the window to watch the storm, idly sipping as she observed the world speed by. Rain was something else new to her and she was undecided on it. While _liquid water falling from the sky_ was undeniably awesome, she didn't much like being caught in it and wasn't massively fond of the damp, dirty smell it left in the air afterwards. But still, it never rained on Brion and hadn't for centuries, just the omnipresent snowstorms and the careful warmth of the thermo-reg shields.

Feeling somewhat whimsical, she absently used the Force to draw patterns in the water trails on the window, writing words in Balthur and admiring how oddly poignant the alien pictographic swirls looked in the water of another world.

She quietly watched the world go by, with only the sounds of the rain and her own breathing as company, feeling the flecks of life around her as others awoke to start the day.

Now, Isharia was not a morning person, not by any means, but even she could appreciate the serene chaos of a new day.

Sighing a little to herself and stretching her arms above her head, she pulled herself up to stand and rolled her head to loosen the muscles in her neck as she went. She released a soft grunt as she felt her body uncoil from the lassitude of sleep and a deep sense of calm washed over her as the various parts of her body woke up.

Reaching out into the Force, she felt it shimmer all around her and breathed in the beauty of it, supposing for an instant that she could see it: all those flickering transcendental moments shining as golden threads spreading out into the murky sky. She gave her head a shake and the image was gone.

Isharia sighed and chastised herself mentally, she was letting herself get lost in fancy, no one had been able to view the Force like that for millennia, and she was hardly going to start now. But she let the momentum of the moment propel her forward and decided to begin her morning exercises.

She had been neglecting them lately and stubbornly ignored the acidic sting of guilt she felt at that thought. She had simply been too busy: cleaning out Ranil's stuff, finalising the shutting down of his project and the associated write ups (which Ranil had, thankfully, had them all complete before leaving -even if none of it would ever be published) and her own doctoral proposal: she'd had no time to think let alone anything else. But all that stress had had an adverse effect on her mental state and she'd been able to feel herself fraying at the edges for weeks now, heavily abusing her ability to dump her emotions into the Force rather than dealing with them, which wasn't good for anyone.

Breathing deeply, she stretched her body and practised her katas in the dim dawn, feeling the flow of the Force move around her as she let it slip liquid and ephemeral over her limbs. For years this routine had been a central part of her day, one of the few enduring connections she allowed to the world she had left behind.

And anyway, it would have been stupid to let all her training go to waste.

In general, exercise was easier on Coruscant, the gravity was much weaker than on Brion and movement took less effort as a result. It was both a curse and a blessing. As a Brionian, she was not built for the low gravity: her bones were denser than a humans' and her muscles were built for more strength. Under Coruscanti conditions she could ran faster, jump higher and bear more weight, but it all came at a cost. She was slimmer yet stronger, shorter yet more powerful, but without constant exercise though she would weaken, and if her grandmother and the Hunters had taught her anything it was that weakness was for fools.

After finishing her regimen, panting a little with the exertion but overall feeling refreshed and humming with energy, she sat herself down again in front of the wet glass to meditate, casting her mind deep into the cosmic reaches of the Force and using the moving stillness of it to both ground her and let her drift away. After weeks of pushing her emotions into it, her personal connection to the Force was chaotic and frazzled, the echoes of discarded thoughts forming choirs of dissonant voices in her mind. Spreading her presence thin, she carefully examined and untangled each one, letting herself feel and experience each emotion in turn as she looked them over and filed them away, feeling herself become lighter each time.

With her psychic burdens dispersed, Isharia flung herself deeper, reaching out into the distant expanses of the Force, far out in the non-distance of forever. The galaxy and all its glory sang around her, impossible symphonies of chaos and order that were both reachable and not. She was limited to the system though, while she was strong, she was not a god; her reach extended only to the Coruscant system, which glowed: the luminous bright heart of the galaxy.

There was so much _history_ here, so many pivotal moments in time, both past and future. So much yet to come and so much already in motion.

But today Coruscant was not her goal, reaching further with phantom mental fingers she found what she was looking for: the controlled flicker of her people on Brion. The billion melodies of a billion minds wrapped together in a web that she was forever connected to, as much as she shielded herself from it.

The ability to feel her people over such vast distances was an enduring legacy of her Balthurian ancestors, as while Brionians weren't a collective consciousness, they were eternally bound in the Force. It was a connection as ancient and deep as their planet itself and it held near holy significance back home. It was only through carefully controlled shielding that they couldn't find her as she could find them.

Sighing to herself after brushing up against the edges of the network, she drove her mind carefully away from the distant pulse, resisting the painful yearning to connect herself with it. She focused inward in the way that all Hunters were taught, feeling each and every muscle, bone and cell in her body.

Hunters were different to Jedi and Sith. Jedi were taught to be servants of the Force, SIth to have it serve _them_. Hunters on the other hand were taught that they _were_ the Force: that it flowed through every part of their bodies, ever fibre of their beings and that it was theirs to control. Jedi and Sith made grand sweeping gestures: they moved mountains, saw the future, made ripples on a galactic scale, but Hunters were different. Hunters were _precise._

Isharia had been taught at the Guild not to lose herself in the Cosmic or Living Force, nor to concern herself with the Dark and Light, but to instead _feel_. To feel every molecule in her body, to feel the world around her at the smallest level, because while midicholrians gave one the ability to feel the Force, the Force was _energy,_ it was infinitely smaller than all the quarks and bosons and electrons in the universe.

She had been taught to manipulate the world at the tiniest levels in shows of precision and subtlety that she doubted most Jedi were capable of. She could strengthen the fibres of her own body, pinch closed the arteries in another, sabotage droids from the inside and find the smallest most infinitesimal cracks in matter and tear them apart.

Hunter Force techniques were like Brionian ice: cold, uncaring and _sharp_.

After an hour or so of meditation, she stepped into the shower, feeling relaxed and refreshed and ready to begin her day. Her good mood buoyed her all the way to work and she decided to forego breakfast in favour of picking up some for the lab on her way.

She walked with a skip in her step and a smile on her face, "Morning, minions!" Isharia called as she walked into the lab, "How are we all on this fine Primeday?"

"Morning, boss," a Rodian technician replied absently, not looking up from the data set he was staring at.

Isharia smiled to herself and hummed in pleasure as she navigated through the benches and workspaces of the lab. A good night's sleep and that much-needed exercise and meditation had done her wonders and now she felt good as new, if still a little strained.

The lab was quiet this morning, the lights hummed overhead and rain battered the windows but the usual comfortable murmur of voices was absent. She glanced around fleetingly as she made her way across the room, it was only her and the Rodian and her forehead wrinkled in confusion, _'Huh,'_ she thought, bewildered, _'pretty sure I'm late rather than early.'_ Glancing around the room again, she swept it over once with the Force to make sure no one was hiding (which she didn't put past some of the people she worked with) but was puzzled to find it really was only her and the Rodian.

She could feel the faintest stirrings of concern build inside her as she took in the uncharacteristic emptiness of the lab, but fiercely batted the thought aside. The others were probably just somewhere else in the building; besides, today was going to be a good day, Isharia could feel it.

In what could be more described as a bounce than a walk, Isharia made her way to the table at the end of the room, pushed aside the random assortment of datapads and holobooks scattered on the surface and placed down this morning's purchase with great ceremony _. "Guess what I bought everyone!"_ she sang with a pleased smile, ignoring the fact there were only two of them in the lab.

The Rodian technician finally looked away from his piles of data to peer over the tops of the equipment and his large eyes widened and lit up, "A Ravello's breakfast set? Boss, you shouldn't have!" he cried, the happiness in his voice belaying his words. He quickly got up from his seat and jogged over the Isharia, his antennae quivering with pleasure as he examined the food on offer, "Ooo, you got kessinnamon rolls, my favourite," he said as he snagged the aforementioned pastry.

Isharia shrugged and smiled, enjoying her colleague's happiness, "I figured I might as well," she said, pulling her coat off and chucking it and her bag on the one of the seats at the table, "I mean, this project's wrapping up soon and we're all going to be split up, might as well do something nice," she finished, sitting down and grabbing a pastry for herself.

After years of working with some of these people, she was really going to miss them and a pang of regret throbbed through her as she thought of how unlikely it was that they'd all keep in touch. She was utterly awful at hanging on to friendships, and it was with a measure of disgruntled loneliness that she acknowledged Shayla's veracity in stating that she was her only friend.

The Rodian hummed and his snout wrinkled as he bit into his food, "It's appreciated," he grunted around a mouthful of food.

Isharia leant back in her chair, "Where's everyone else then, Rondo?" she asked the Rodian, looking around the lab, giving voice to the question on her mind.

Rondo sat down himself and swallowed, "Shi'rro and Nafatar are down at Tiva's for caf, Ranannon's gone to clean some of the glassware and Force knows where Ismret, Ysa and Dvino are," he said rolling his large green eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if they were off trying to get Dr Ashan to smile again," he finished with a sigh.

Isharia raised her eyebrows, "Good luck with that," she snorted, "current running theory is that he inhaled something in his lab and his face just froze like that." She gave Rondo a bland look, "I hope they're aware that Ranil's not here to bail them out this time and I'm certainly not getting involved."

Rondo's ears twitched and he groaned, "I'm pretty sure the three of them think they're invincible," he replied, fingering the icing on his pastry, "I've never met anyone as reckless as Ysa."

Isharia took a bite of her own pastry, "They'll grow out of it," she said while chewing, "you should've seen the shavit Shay and I did when we were younger," she shook her head with a fond smile and swallowed, "still not sure why we weren't arrested."

Rondo gave a thoughtful hum, "That's your Zeltron friend, right?" he asked.

"One and the same," Isharia replied.

Her and Rondo sat for a little while enjoying their breakfast pastries and trading idle chatter about their Benduday's. Rondo had a young daughter at home who had just turned two and so he and his wife had taken her to Imagine playcentre for the day. He complained at length about the general incompetence of the staff there and bemoaned the lack of child friendly spaces in his district.

"How hard is it to build a park or something nearby?" he said incredulously, gesticulating with his arms, "the prices for that place are extortionate and it took us over an hour to get there."

Isharia nodded in agreement, "There doesn't seem to have been much in the way of urban planning around Taral district, that's for sure," she frowned, "although if you're looking for a park I found a jungle themed Prosper on level 5042, I don't think it was _too_ far from your place."

Rondo hummed, "Could be worth looking into, where was it?"

"Under the K-56T, I'll get Vanla to send you the details."

They continued in this vein for a few more minutes when they were interrupted by uncontrollable laughter coming from the door at the other end of the lab. Turning around to look, Isharia felt twinge of amusement as she watched a giggling Twi'lek, Zabrak and Devaronian stumble into the lab.

"Did you see his _face!_ " the Twi'lek cackled, her lekku swaying as she laughed, "It was _gold!"_

The Zabrak panted, leaning against the wall laughing, trying to regain his breath, "Force, I thought we were dead for a moment there!" he said with a wide, toothy grin.

"Oh man, that was awesome!" the Devaronian exclaimed, collapsing on the floor.

Watching the three of them, Isharia knew that she was in a massive headache later this morning. Whatever had them laughing, she doubted that it meant good things for her. Deciding to interrupt their gaiety before they did anything else, she called over, "Well, look at what the loth-cat dragged in," amusement clear in her voice as she gave them a dry smile.

The Twi'lek straightened up and beamed at her, "Morning, Illustrious Leader!" she called back.

The Devaronian jumped to his feet and the Zabrak stumbled off the wall, "Morning, Dr Ashaki," "S'up, Doc," they chimed at the same time.

The Twi'lek flounced over to where Isharia and Rondo were sitting, her white lab coat and bright blue lekku trailing behind her, "Oooo, is that Corellian sweet toast?" she asked as she saw the food on the table. Reaching down she grabbed a piece and collapsed in one of the chairs, stuffing the food into her mouth with a groan, "You're the _best_ , Doc," she said with a sigh of pleasure.

"Well, I do try," Isharia said with a grin. "So, Ysa, care to tell Rondo and I what the three of you were up to this morning?" she asked, clasping her hands together on the table and resting her head on top of them.

"It was _hilarious_ , Dr Ashaki," the Devaronian said as he and the Zabrak wandered over to the table and pulled up a chair, "I didn't think Dr Ashan even _had_ that emotional range."

"Dr Ashan, _really, Dvino?_ " Rondo groaned, looking like he was resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands, "Don't you lot have better things to do than antagonise faculty members?"

" _Pfft!"_ Dvino dismissed with a wave of his hand, "He loves us really."

"Yeah," Ysa said flippantly from where she lounged on her chair, "we make his life interesting."

"He'll miss us when we're gone," Ismret finished, grabbing his own pastry.

' _Right, of course he will,'_ Isharia thought wryly, mentally prepping for all the damage control she would have to do.

Dr Ashan was head of the department. He was an incredibly serious Togruta with a scowl that was legendary among the staff and a reputation for being displeased with just about everything. Strict and particular, Ashan was the most demanding person she'd ever met, and she'd met her grandmother. He expected nothing but the best from his teams and tolerated nothing less, his personal lab had one of the highest turnover rates of scientists in the university. But his results spoke for themselves. He had a particular distain for fools, which was why the three tricksters of her team were constantly on his bad side, it was only really their undeniable intellect that kept him from throwing them out.

Isharia herself had had plenty of meetings with him over the years. In the beginning, as the most junior member of Ranil's team, she'd had the much sought-after pleasure of delivering all the reports and files on their progress and presenting some of Ranil's more spur-of-the-moment ideas. It had been widely known that Ashan was not Ranil's biggest fan, Ranil being was just too eccentric and unconventional to appeal to a man as uptight as Ashan, which meant often his requests had been met with displeasure. Isharia had persevered however, and as the years had passed, she'd like to think he'd developed a grudging sort of respect for her as the only member of staff that didn't flinch when she saw him. He was hardly the scariest thing she'd ever seen after all.

Ysa, Ismret and Dvino on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse sort of pleasure in riling him up, being too young and stupid to really think about their actions.

"So, what exactly did you do this time then?" Isharia asked, somewhat dreading the answer.

Ysa leant forward and grinned, " _Weeelll,_ " she began, "we may have, _ahem-,"_

"-filled his entire office with balloons, covered all the walls with flimsi-sticks and set his portable to play the Kashyyk Life Day choir on the hour," Dvino finished with a self-congratulatory smirk.

Rondo looked so horrified he could cry and his green skin paled to a delicate olive shade, " _Please_ tell me you didn't," he said with a muted moan of panic.

"Oh, we did," Ismret proclaimed, fingering the horns on his head with pride, "and his reaction was _spectacular._ "

Isharia groaned and rubbed fiercely at her forehead where the pressure was building, how the kriff was she meant to sort this out? Ashan would have their heads! _Force,_ he'd have _her_ head!

"B-b-but _why!?_ " Rondo exclaimed.

Ysa twirled one of her lekku between her fingers, "Well, we all leave soon, don't we? Figured we should go out with a bang," she shrugged.

"Yes, but not a literal one!" Rondo cried, "He'll kill you!"

"Relax, Rondo," Dvino drawled, "we'll be fine."

Isharia ran a hand through her bushy curls with a sigh, "While I admire your optimistic assessment of the situation, I think you are understating the trouble that you may be in." She levelled them each a serious look, resolving herself to be the adult here, "You have to remember Dr Ashan is an _extremely_ well-respected man and, more than that, he is your _boss_ and _superior._ It is well within his power to make it _very hard_ for you to find a job later in life and not only does your behaviour reflect badly on _you,_ it reflects badly on _me._ "

The three of them had the good sense at least to look ashamed. Ysa cast her eyes down and her blue cheeks had the slightest pink tint to them. Ismret was frowning in thought and playing nervously with the sleeve of his lab coat and Dvino's characteristic smirk had vanished.

Tilting her head to the sky and asking the Force for guidance, Isharia placed her hands flat on the table and stated with a sense of finality, "Well, I hope my point has gotten through. There's nothing any of us can do now and I'll have to think up something to say to Ashan when I see him later. In the meantime, finish your breakfast and get to work, we have things to do," she said eying each of them in turn.

Ysa, Ismret and Dvino nodded their heads slowly, their faces contrite and chagrined.

Isharia let a smirk slip onto her face, "Did you a least get holos of his reaction though?"

The three of them ginned while Rondo groaned and let his head thud onto the table.

-*8*-

After finishing off the rest of the Ravello's, leaving a few scraps for Shi'rro, Nafatar and Ranannon, they dispersed to their respective stations and tasks: Rondo back to sorting the backlog of data they'd accumulated over the years, Ysa, Ismret and Dvino to categorising and cataloguing everything in the coolers, freezers and cupboards for disposal or removal and Isharia retreating into Ranil's old office in the far corner to go over her notes for her meeting with the Jedi.

She was still incredibly nervous about that. By virtue of what they did, Jedi Healers were extremely perceptive and the few dealings she'd had with them at the Temple had never failed to leave her twitchy and on edge. It had been an acceptable reaction when she was younger, but now she was a trained medical professional embarking on her doctoral studies, she couldn't afford to be jumpy.

She checked her personal shields for the umpteenth time that morning and suppressed a burst of irritation at her own anxiety. Her shields were fine, she told herself, she'd had years of practice shielded herself from the Jedi and it was no different now than all the other hundred times she'd had to do it. The challenge was always that she didn't shield so tightly that she vanished completely to their senses or appeared trained.

All she had to do when Master Allie arrived was tell her the truth. Inform her of her aims and goals, what she intended to get out of her research and what she intended to do with it, the methods she was going to use. There was nothing sinister about what Isharia had planned and quite honestly, the outcome her research could potentially _benefit_ the Order.

All she had to do was convince a Jedi Master.

No pressure.

' _Argh!'_ she growled in frustration, running her hands down her face, _'I am making this way more complicated than it needs to be.'_ She stared miserably out of her office window: still raining.

All her sleepless nights and stressful days led up to this, everything she'd done since leaving Brion led up to this. This was her chance to personally do something meaningful to make the galaxy a better place. Force sensitivity was woefully understudied in the public domain and the development of it even less so. This was an opportunity to create discussion in the wider scientific community, to make the Force more accessible and understandable to people who weren't Jedi, which in the end, with the ever-present distance between Jedi and non-Jedi, could only be a good thing.

It was around this time that the other three finally turned up. _'They're late,'_ Isharia thought, as she listened to the murmur of voices pick up outside her office, _'Pretty sure it doesn't take that long to get caf or wash some glassware.'_

The office doors and walls were soundproof (to allow the occupant to concentrate) and unfortunately made it so Isharia wast unable to hear what exactly was being said, but from intonation of the voices, it didn't seem to be anything major. She'd just gone back to staring blindly at her notes when there was a knock at the door.

"Come on in," she called out distractedly.

The door slid open quietly and a tall human man stepped inside. Isharia peered up from her notes to look at him and gave an envious stare at the caf container he held in his hand before meeting his eyes, "What can I do for you, Shi'rro?" she sighed.

Shi'rro gave her a pitying look and pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, "Jus' t'warn ya," he said, his Rim-world accent gruff, "Ashan's on a warpath."

Isharia grunted and rolled her eyes, "Oh I know," she said tiredly, "three guesses to why that is," she sighed.

Shi'rro gave her a commiserating look, "The Terrible Threesome? I know, 'e corned Nafatar 'n' I on the way back from Tiva's, I ain't ever seen the man look tha' angry before," he said with a bemused shake of the head.

"I assume he told you what they did?"

Shi'rro shrugged, "Not really, bu' I gathered tha' it's got somethin' to do wit 'is portable blaring out karking Wookie music," he said with a grin.

Isharia let out a peal of laughter at the image, serious Dr Ashan and his scowl with the Wookie choir in the background, "Was it really?" she asked with mirth.

"Oh yeah, growlin' out the whole hall, it was. Kinda took away from 'im yellin' a' us to "control the pests.""

"I bet it did," Isharia laughed, "Ismret promised to send us all the holos of his face when he found their prank."

Shi'rro grinned, "Good man, need somethin' t'laugh at when I'm bored out o' my mind on Bandomeer," he said.

Isharia raised an inquisitive brow, "You're heading to Bandomeer?" she asked.

"Yeah, Davinde's requested that Ranannon 'n' I join 'im, idiot needs someone t'make sure 'e doesn't walk into a plough or somethin'," he said with a tired expression.

Isharia gave him sympathetic smile, "Well, at least it's with Ranil, you could have been reassigned to Ashan like Nafatar."

Shi'rro made a circular symbol with his index fingers and thumbs, "Den'i'lee preserve me," he prayed, looking at the ceiling, "I thank the goddess every day for tha', I'm jus' lucky I ain't got anythin' 'olding me on Coruscant like she 'as," he said. He peered at Isharia closely, blue eyes tracing over the smudged shadows under her eyes and the manic poof of her hair where she'd been running her hands through it, "Wha' abou' you?" he asked, "'ow's your PhD comin' along?"

Isharia sighed and collapsed back in her chair, "It's coming," she said, "Got a Jedi coming around later to talk to me about it, she's going to decide whether or not to present it to the Council," she shrugged, "or she could leave it dead in the water."

Shi'rro flinched, "Ouch, tha' don't sound pleasant." His brow wrinkled in thought, "I remember when I was doin' my proposal, it was stressful but there weren't any Jedi involved," he shook his head, "tha' bein' said, I understan' why you're doin' it and I admire ya for it."

Isharia felt a swell of pleasure and reassurance at that, while a scientist rather than a medic, Shi'rro was someone she admired greatly. He'd been a researcher for a small-time company in the Outer Rim before Ranil had snapped him up, declaring his intellect wasted out in the middle of nowhere. Since then he'd been the doctor's voice of reason through all his wacky ideas and served as a mentor of sorts to her during the later years of her studies.

"That means a lot," Isharia replied with a grateful smile.

Shi'rro smiled back before exhaling heavily and standing up, "Anyway, I best get goin', got t'prevent the morons out there doin' anythin' else that could get us all sacked." He moved to the door, "I'll let ya know when yer Jedi turns up."

"Thanks, Shi'rro," Isharia replied, "I'll see you in a bit then."

Shi'rro gave her an absent wave before leaving the office, leaving Isharia alone with her datapads

She down at them and closed her eyes, it was going to be a long morning.

-*8*-

As morning rolled into lunch rolled into afternoon, the team managed to determinedly mow through all their jobs. Clean-up of the lab was pretty much done and all the non-inflammatory data had been logged into the university intranet for future use. Next week the project would be officially shut down and the eight of them would move on to their next jobs.

Ysa and Dvino were still undergrads, they'd been interning for Ranil like she'd done when she was young so they would have to begin reapplying to other projects. She'd written them both highly complimentary references as Ranil, the lazy sheb, had forgotten before he'd left and assured them she'd help them both any way she could. Ismret had found a position at an Arkanian genetics lab and Rondo was going to work for Dr. Mvao down the hall.

As for her, hopefully she'd be bouncing around between the university and the Temple. Otherwise she supposed she could join the Republic Medical Corps, at least then she'd get to travel.

But she wasn't massively fond of the idea of attaching herself to something under Senate jurisdiction, the less said about that, the better.

It was sometime around three o'clock when Vanla pinged up in front of her face.

" _Mistress, you have a message,"_ she said, her high-pitched voice ringing out.

Isharia glanced up from an article she'd been reading on childhood brain development and felt a flood of nerves, she swallowed, _'This is it.'_ "What is it, Vanla?" she asked.

The felinx perked up, " _Dr_ _Opilu_ _says that front desk has a visitor for you, a Jedi by the name of Stass Allie."_

Isharia tensed up briefly and took a deep breath to calm down, using the Force to stabilise her nerves, "Tell Shi'rro I got the message, I'll head down to meet her now," she said, muscles tight with worry.

" _Will do, Mistress!"_ Vanla replied before disappearing.

Isharia took a moment to compose herself before doing anything. Her heart was racing, galloping forward faster than a byak and her stomach churned with flutterwings. This was just like her proposal presentation all over again, and she'd almost thrown up before that, and this was worse, this was a _Jedi_ rather than a group of pompous academics.

She let out a slightly hysterical laugh and rubbed at her eyes, _Force_ this was pathetic. She'd faced down murderers before without blinking, stood at her grandmother's side in front of the entire Brionian court and not even flinched, how was she so worked up over _this?_ Perhaps, she thought to herself with that same illogical mirth, it was because this was something she had chosen for herself, something she had put her heart into, the first time in her life that she had chosen her own direction and she was utterly _terrified_ of it failing.

Drawing heavily on the Force for balance and guidance, she stood from her desk and left her office. Back in the lab the others were attempting to amuse themselves: Ysa and Ismret were firing pipette tips into a glass beaker placed on the bench opposite them (with little success if the graveyard of wasted plastic on the floor was anything to go by), Dvino was fiddling with a microscope, Rondo was on his comm and the other three were playing a game of sabaac over what looked like one of the random pieces of artwork from the hall.

Isharia resisted the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation, "I hope you lot look a little more productive when I bring the Jedi up," she called, giving them all pointed looks.

Nafatar, a small dark-skinned human with unusual green eyes laughed, "I told you so," she said, not looking away from her cards, "I said Isharia wouldn't be pleased."

Ranannon, a Mirialan with yellow skin and red hair hissed, " _Ssh_ , I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Why?" Nafatar scoffed and looked over at her with her eyebrows raised, "Do you really want that piece of junk that much?"

"No," Ranannon scowled, peering intensely at her cards, "It's the principle of the thing!"

Isharia sighed and walked over, catching Shi'rro smirking at her out of the corner of her eye. When she reached the table, she grabbed the, honestly hideous, painting of stylised DNA and looked at their cards. "Give up, Ranannon, Nafatar has the winning hand anyway," she stated, and glared down at them, "now can you please at least _look_ like you're doing something? I need to make a good impression."

The three of them groaned and put down their cards, "Alright, but there really isn't anything to do, we've completely cleared up," Nafatar said, indicating with her hand to the spotless lap.

"I'm sure we can find somethin' though," Shi'rro added placatingly, rising from the table, "and I'll make sure the others do too," he finished smiling.

Isharia shot him a grateful smile, "Thanks," she said sincerely and exhaled shakily, looking over to the lab door with trepidation, "Well, this is it," she sighed tremulously, "wish me luck."

Shi'rro grinned and patted her shoulder, the thump jolting her from her nervous examination of the door, "Nah, Doctor, you don' need it, but 'ave some anyway," he said, pushing her slightly forward.

"Go get 'em, boss!" Ysa called and waved from the other side of the lab, Ismret and Dvino shooting her thumbs up signs at her sides. Rondo looked up from his comm and smiled, "Good luck," he said with a nod.

"Thanks everyone," Isharia replied, feeling buoyed by their well wishes and faith. Setting her face into what she hoped was confident sereneness, she rolled her shoulders and straightened her back, _'Right. Let's do this,'_ she thought determinedly and she left the room.

Once into the corridor, she kept up her resolute pace all the way to the turbolift, fearful that if she slowed down she'd stop or turn back. _Ilumin'ar_ she felt ridiculous, fretting herself almost sick over this. This was hardly a life or death matter and here she was shaking like a nervous gizka. She looked along the windows as she walked, the outside was dark and wet and speeder headlights lit up the gloom. High up as she was, (much higher than her apartment) she could see the entire vista of the Fobosi District and the smoggy pillars of the Works in the background.

She took a deep, fortifying breath and tried to use the familiar scenery as a comfort. The Life Sciences department at the university was in a huge skyscraper at the edge of the district, towering above many of the commercial and residential buildings. The university's part of it started at around level 4600, but it changed all the time depending on how much research space was needed; the entrance was always at level 5035 though.

She'd spent nearly all of her education here -well here or the medcentre in the adjacent building- to the point where she practically lived here, sad as that was. Since coming to Coruscant, she'd become something of a workaholic, which wasn't bad in theory, but her stress levels went through the roof, and add to that the cultivated Brionian tendency toward perfectionism and she could be a real bucket of laughs.

It was always a wonder Shayla got her to go anywhere.

There were holoscreens up all along the walls in the department, showing some news network covering the Senate and it made Isharia want to roll her eyes in disgust, _'Another day, another scandal,'_ she thought with a huff. Sometimes watching the news made her miss the Brionian monarchy: at least her grandmother had never embezzled public money to buy a yacht, or sold her people to slavery on the side, despite all the other things she'd done.

It was stupid, all of it, the entire system was slowly stagnating into rot and decay and it was fairly obvious that no one seemed to care. At least you could say that _that_ wasn't a problem on Brion, no matter what else was.

She got to the lift and stepped inside, keying the number of the floor she wanted into the control panel and swiping her access card through the slot to activate the lift. Within seconds the lift was shooting down the building at high speeds, university notices playing over the speaker in the background. During her brief trip, she managed to learn that the North Coruscant Rancor's grav-ball team had thrashed the East Galactic Scoundrel's at the Inter-Sector University League semi-finals and that the Politics department had won some sort of award at a mock Senate negotiation. The mundanity of it all helped calm her nerves, nothing was more dull than a monotone mechanical voice droning on, although she could still feel her stomach churning and hands clench tight with trepidation.

The lift ground to a slow stop and an automated voice announced the floor before the doors slid open. Isharia stepped out and shunted her worries to the side, fortifying her mental shielding and straightening her skirt. Walking through the huge glass dome foyer of the department, it took her no less than a minute to reach the reception desk where two smartly dressed human women sat typing away on their computers. She walked up to them with what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face but could have easily been a grimace, "Hello," she said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible as one of the women looked up to greet her, "Dr, Ashaki," she said by way of introduction, "I was told there was a Master Stass Allie here to see me?"

The women's brows furrowed in concentration for a moment before she said, "Ah yes, the Tholothian. She's just around the corner in the waiting area, she hasn't been here long," she replied, tilting her head in the direction of the collection of chic leather sofas in the corner of the foyer.

"Thanks," Isharia replied, waving over her shoulder as she set off in the direction of the seats.

As she grew closer her eyes focused onto the woman sat on the far edge of the waiting area, right next to the glass wall. She was tall (although practically anyone was tall compared to Isharia) with rich, dark skin the colour of expensive vrain wood and slender, muscled figure. She was wearing the customary drab robes of the Jedi and looked startlingly out of place among the casual-wear of the scientists and the smart suits of the office staff, but on her head was a distinctive Tholothian headdress, with its white tendrils touching her shoulders in the place of hair.

The moment Isharia looked her, her head snapped around as if she could sense the focus she was attracting, revealing two astonishingly violet eyes, swimming with kindness and intellect. As Isharia drew closer she smiled, "Relax, Dr Ashaki," she said, standing to greet her, "I can feel your worry from here." She had a strong voice, deep for a woman but textured and rich, her Basic had a rhythmic accent to it that Isharia had never heard before but found quite compelling nonetheless.

Isharia came to a stop in front of her and brought a hand up to rub at the back of her neck sheepishly, "Hah, easier said than done I'm afraid," she said dryly, "I have a lot riding on this." She coughed into her hand, "Anyway, it's an honour to meet you, Master Allie," she said solemnly, falling into the shallow bow she'd picked up over her years at the Temple.

Master Allie returned the gesture, "You as well, Doctor, I have heard good things about you from my fellow Jedi," she replied with a calm smile.

That more than anything set her nerves tingling, _the Jedi spoke about her?_ Well that was new, _'Only nice things I hope,'_ she thought with some apprehension as she considered the great number of things they could discuss, considering she'd been in and out of the Temple for the last seven years. Isharia laughed, wincing internally at the hysterical breathy edge to it, "Well, I suppose that's better than bad things!" _'Force that sounded pathetic, c'mon Isharia! You do better than that!'_ She stood for a few moments trying and failing to think of something witty and engaging to say while the Jedi looked on placidly, but eventually gave up with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. "We should probably head up," she said resignedly.

Master Allie continued to look calm and serene and Isharia felt a nasty burst of old envy at her steadiness, remembering all the adults and younglings on Brion who'd also had the ability to look perpetually unaffected. "After you then, Doctor," she said, in that cadenced accent of hers.

Isharia shoved away the stirrings of that old bitterness into the Force to deal with later and turned away to head back toward the turbolift, slowing her pace so her and the Jedi could walk side by side. She gave the Jedi a sidelong glance out of the corner of her eyes and tried not to let the nerves crawl up again, _'Force she's tall, I'd wager almost six foot!'_ she thought, trying hard not to feel extra tiny.

As they walked to the turbolift and stepped inside, the silence began to feel a little awkward, "So, uh, I trust your journey was okay?" Isharia said, feeling the need to fill the silence, but again internally grimacing at how silly she must sound.

Master Allie gave her a wry smile that said she knew exactly what Isharia was doing, "My journey was fine, thank you. The skylanes are a little busy but I had no real issues," she replied evenly.

Isharia struggled for a reply that didn't sound totally awkward, "That's, uh, that's good?" _Illumin'ar what was wrong with her!?_

The Jedi chuckled, "I don't know what you're so nervous about, Doctor, I read over your proposal and it was fine, this is just a formality more than anything."

Isharia started and whipped her head up to look at the Jedi, her eyes widening, "It is?" she questioned.

Master Allie shrugged, the movement graceful and weirdly contained, "Of course, you've been working with the Order for years, we have no reason to suspect of you ill intent. This meeting is just to go over the particulars of the arrangement," her forehead wrinkled in thought, "though I do confess, I am curious as to why you chose this area of study."

Isharia felt as though the weight of the entire Coruscant system had just been lifted of her shoulders and a great swell of relief pored through her bones. _'Oh, thank the Force,'_ she thought gratefully and allowed herself to finally relax.

Though she did feel a bit disgruntled that she'd been so stressed for nothing.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," she breathed shakily, her brain finally catching on to the fact that her _research was a go! How nova was that?_ and smiling.

Master Allie hummed and offered her a small smirk, "Allow me to congratulate you then, Dr Ashaki, on the beginning of your research."

Isharia grinned at the Jedi and felt a flood of pleasure, "Thank you, Master Allie," she replied sincerely, "As for your curiosity, well personal interest more than anything," she shrugged, "and a few ulterior motives as well, I suppose."

The turbolift announced they'd reached their floor and they both stepped out, "Indeed?" Master Allie said with one eyebrow raised.

Isharia nodded, "Yeah, you probably know by now that I'm Force sensitive," she said, checking to see if her companion did, receiving a nod in return, continued, "Well, I suppose that I'm just interested to see how -if- my brain developed differently as a result. And whether the _way_ I was raised had any effect."

Master Allie tilted her head in understanding, "Understandable," she said, "and your ulterior motives?"

"That's more about the Order than anything," Isharia said, staring out of the building windows in the direction of the Temple as she spoke, "There's little to no research done or available on the Force that's accessible to the public and other scientists, and, quite frankly, that's damaging to the Order," she said looking back at Master Allie who was frowning. "Most of the general population don't even believe in the Force, even if they do it's just weird Jedi voodoo to them, they don't understand it can be scientifically studied to a degree, like all other natural phenomena," she shrugged, "lack of understanding breeds resentment and fear," she gave Master Allie a good humoured glance, "and I've been around enough Jedi to know what fear does."

Master Allie's eyes twinkled with good humour, "Yes, yes," she said, "fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate to suffering, you know us well."

"Not really," she dismissed with a shrug, "I still have absolutely no idea what half of all those weird sayings that you're all so fond of mean, I'm starting to believe they don't mean anything, but some things are universal." She sobered, "But more to the point, comprehensive study of the Force does just as much for you as it does for me, doesn't hurt I'll get a doctorate out of it though," Isharia finished with a smirk.

Master Allie's brows drew together in thought and her eyes gained a glassy distance that Isharia recognised as her consulting the Force. Her whole body changed for an instant, her limbs loosened and her movements became unnervingly particular, it was a stance Isharia recognised from being around Force users her entire life. Although, she had to wonder just how alien and strange it looked to those without the Force.

"You have given me much to consider, Doctor," Master Allie said quietly, falling silent with a pensive expression on her face.

In was then that they reached the door to the lab, Isharia fervently prayed that her colleagues had found a way to look productive, Force it would be embarrassing bringing a Jedi up and they were all mixing hallucinogens from the stuff in the store cupboard. _'Come on guys, don't let me down!"_ she thought.

She turned to Master Allie, "Well here we are!" she said with a too wide grin, some of her earlier nerves returning. She slid her pass through the door locks and crossed her fingers as the door opened with a small hydraulic puff.

' _Oh, thank Kuni'van'tro and all his court!'_ she breathed a sigh of relief as the lab was revealed and all her team were at varying workstations around the room, apparently examining samples.

Her lips spread into a pleased smile as she stepped inside, the Jedi following her. Turning her head to Master Allie, she gestured to all the team in turn, "Master Allie," she said proudly, "may I introduce you to Doctors Opilu, Bonyuly and Garndeni, Rondo Parra, Ysa Hydrenl, Dvino Renaut and Ismret Kvoth."

They all waved back as their names were mentioned, some more enthusiastically than others, and Master Allie bowed back in return, "It's a pleasure to meet you all," she greeted pleasantly.

"You too, Master Jedi!" Ysa replied back excitedly, tugging happily at one of her lekku.

"Not often we see Jedi," Ranannon said crossing her arms and leaning back on her station.

"Doesn't mean there're not welcome though!" Ismret piped up with a smile.

Master Allie laughed, "Always good to know," she returned, her violet eyes alight with happiness.

Isharia observed their interaction with satisfaction, she was pleased beyond words that this was all going well. Although Master Allie had assured her she had nothing to worry about, she still wanted to make a good impression and was sure her colleagues did too. Seeing them display their inherent friendliness to their Jedi guest was heartening. Deciding to move this along though, she said, "Alright, well, we'll be in the office if you guys need anything," she gestured forward with her hand and addressed Master Allie, "shall we?" she invited.

Master Allie inclined her head in deference, "After you," she said and they walked into the office together.

Isharia cringed a little when they entered, her datapads were still littering the desk and boxed piles of Ranil's possessions were stacked up against the window, "Sorry about the mess," she said by way of apology.

"It's nothing," Master Allie said with an unconcerned wave, "you should see how my room looked when I was a Padawan."

"Yeah, well, most of this is Dr Ranil's, I still need to have it shipped out to him, but I've been so busy I haven't gotten round to it," Isharia replied as an explanation, "please, take a seat," she said indicating toward to chair at the desk.

Master Allie sat down gracefully, arranging her robes around her with practiced casualness, "Ah yes, Davinde Ranil, quite the eccentric," she said, eyes flicking across the small space.

Isharia smirked in agreement, "Tell me about it," she said, "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I found in here," she finished exasperatedly. _'Although,'_ she thought, her mind drifting to Ranil's research notes and his sudden removal to Bandomeer, _'you just might.'_

She mentally shook herself and filed the thought away, before sitting down and crossing one leg over the other, "So," she began decisively, "what do you want to know?"

Master Allie sat up straighter and her face became serious; her eyes sharpening and the focused serenity she associated with the Jedi falling over her like a shroud, "Well, you've already answered the first of our concerns, your motives, but there are a few more points to clarify," she said folding her hands into the sleeves of her robes, "namely, what you are actually going to be doing with our younglings and what this will mean for them."

Isharia lean back into her chair, _'Good question,'_ she thought, her face slipping into a contemplative frown. She pursed her lips as she considered the question, thinking hard as she tried to find the best way to answer. Sighing, she met the Jedi's eyes, "As you have probably heard, I'm a medical doctor rather than a research scientist. I have my basic qualifications: my Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery, specialisation in Humanoid and near-Human species, which I did as an intensive degree program, and I'm currently specialising in neurology. That's what this is, I've done my CMT -Core Medical Training- and I'm in the process of my Speciality Training, the PhD is alongside it.

Master Allie blinked, obviously impressed, "That's an awful lot of work," she stated, startled, and she eyed Isharia with new-found respect and consideration.

' _Don't I know it,'_ Isharia thought, grimacing, _'sometimes too much.'_ She thought back on all the stress she'd be under the last few years of her life, all the deadlines and commitments, all the tiny issues she'd juggled and the sleepless nights. It made her nauseous to truly reflect on it all and it was a matter of self-preservation that she rarely thought about it in much detail. It kept her mind occupied and away from things best left in the past. Medicine helped her heal her soul and the pressure kept away the guilt.

She exhaled wearily and shrugged, letting through the smallest echoes of her exhaustion, "It keeps me busy," she said with a tired smile. "Anyway, the point being the university, and the College of Galactic Physicians, are letting me do this before being fully specialised because they're desperate for studies to be done on the Force. I'm one of the few professionals with prior experience working on Force studies and access to the Jedi. Also, I have, apparently, proven myself to be a dedicated enough student to manage my responsibilities efficiently."

She leant forward and steepled her fingers together on the desk, "Although that doesn't really answer your question. It is my intent, to conduct a comprehensive study of how Force sensitivity affects brain development, if it does at all. Jedi youngling are all confirmed Force sensitives in a controlled environment, they are ideal for study. I have proposed to study the changes in the neurophysiological structure of their brains as they grow to see if being Force sensitive has any effect, and if so, what?

"It would involve brain scans, brain mapping, studying results to stimuli, studying what happens when the Force is used and interacted with and it would be long term, potentially longer than a PhD normally would be, all alongside my specialisation." She leant forward further and her brows etched deep grooves between her eyes where they were pushed together, "Of course no names would be published and the Jedi Order would be given the credit and the acknowledgement it would be due. Funding would also come from the university and the CGP, so you wouldn't have to worry about that either."

Master Allie took in all the information in silence, her expression unchanging and betraying nothing as her eyes looked keenly ahead. She nodded when Isharia finished, "We gathered as much," she finally said, "however I am concerned about what 'stimuli' you will be using."

Isharia waved her hand airily, "Oh just general stuff, images, situations and the like. I'm hardly going to tempt them to the Dark Side or something if you're worried about that."

Master Allie frowned, "Well, this is new territory for us, we don't quite know what to expect," she hummed. "I'll take your word for it but we reserve the right to put a stop to anything we perceive as dangerous," she warned.

Isharia idly lifted a shoulder, having expected as much, "That's fair," she conceded.

Master Allie gave her a smile, "Other than that, we have no problems. I'll present your proposal to the High Council tomorrow but I doubt they'll have any issues," she stated matter-of-factly, "but it might be best if you were there to field any questions," she added.

Isharia smiled, inwardly pleased at being invited to the Temple, "I'd be honoured."

"Well," Master Allie proclaimed, standing up, "I guess that's settled. Someone will comm you later about tomorrow but as far as I'm concerned, everything is in order."

Isharia could have shouted her triumph to the heavens but settled instead for saying while standing to shake the Jedi Master's hand, "I think this is the beginning of a highly beneficial partnership."


	7. Chapter 7: The Council

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 6: The Council

 **A/N: Hello again, managed to get this written within a reasonable amount of time which is awesome, I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Saw the Last Jedi the other day, there were bits I definitely would've done differently but overall I thought it was a good film, how about you guys? Anyway, I didn't quite get all I wanted in here, but if I made it longer it would've been too long, I hope it reads well. As always I check my own stuff so apologies for mistakes! Enjoy:)**

 **Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I don't own Star Wars**

* * *

Isharia pursed her lips in concentration as she carefully pulled into the speederpark at the Temple, avoiding the tightly packed rows of regulation speeders and mechanic droids that filled the space. The Temple parking lot was always packed; with thousands of Jedi in residence at any one time it was imperative that they all be able to get anywhere they needed to be.

It was an inconvenience for her however, as it meant several mindless minutes floating around looking for an empty space.

' _Aha! There you go!'_ she thought triumphantly as she spotted a place, tucked away between two dull, if sensible looking, speeders, _'and straight away too, how novel.'_

Using the automated park function on her speeder, she sat patiently while the machine's processors did the work for her, and hummed in pleasure as they performed perfectly once again. She patted the steering wheel playfully, _'I am so glad I bought you,'_ she thought fondly and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat before getting out.

Once outside, she breathed in the familiar air of the Jedi Temple, and allowed herself a happy smile as the presence of it in the Force washed over her, immediately soothing her and offering her a peace of mind it was difficult to achieve on her own. She would never get used to this feeling, not for as long as she lived and she doubted that she'd ever find something comparable, not even if she searched the galaxy for a thousand years

The Jedi Temple was unique and magnificent. She still thought it ridiculously big, _too_ big by all accounts -especially since the Jedi were meant to forsake material wealth- but she would never be able to deny the simplistic beauty of it: the high stone ceilings and the exquisite lines and arcs in the rock. The way the Coruscanti sun caught the light of its thousand windows and the flowing grace inherent in every hall.

The metaphysical perception of it was even better: the pure, grandiose peace and serenity, the sense of age, power and knowledge; the eyes of a thousand generations peering from every wall.

 _Force_ , she loved this place.

Though today she'd approached the Temple with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. After Master Allie had given her the go ahead for her research, she'd felt as though she could die happy, and she'd said as much to Shayla over the comm-call they'd had later.

After telling her best friend the good news, Shayla had promptly squealed high enough to burst a Dug's eardrums and her holographic form had jumped up and down so much she'd resembled a Mantellian bouncer-rat, Isharia had begun to wonder if she was going to give herself brain damage.

" _I'm so happy for you!"_ the Zeltron had cried in glee, her eyes shining _, "Goddess knows you've been on edge about this entire project for weeks! Now you can finally get started!"_

Isharia had breathed an exhausted sigh in reply, "Force it's a huge relief," she'd confided with disbelieving shake of her head, "I honestly can't believe how well it went," she'd said with a puzzled frown.

" _So,"_ Shayla had said, her miniature image leaning forward in excited curiosity, _"what happened?"_

"Well, we chatted for a bit, Master Allie was nice and polite, and then we had caf with the others in the lab afterwards," she'd shrugged, then furrowed her brows in consideration and tilted her head in thought, "great sense of humour for a Jedi," she'd added absently.

Shayla's hologram had shrugged at that, _"Well, you're always telling me that they're not as dull as they look,"_ she'd replied _._

"I know," Isharia had acceded with a shrug of her own, "but I expected Jedi in Master Allie's position to be… _stuffier,_ " she'd said, thinking back to the Brionians she'd known in similar positions, _'Force_ _knows the scholars on Brion were the epitome of stuffy,'_ she'd thought with disgust. Pushing such thoughts to the side though, she'd focused back on the conservation at hand and her face had broken out into a wide, toothy grin as she'd remembered the best part of her day, "But that's not the even the best bit," she'd said to her friend with a smirk, "you should've seen Master Allie telling Dr Ashan to kriff off."

Shayla's eyes went comically wide, "No _,"_ she'd said, half a gasp, _"_ Did she really!? _"_ she'd cried in disbelief.

"Mmhm," Isharia affirmed with a satisfied grin, feeling the rush of the moment just thinking on it, "It was _brilliant_."

" _I'll bet,"_ Shayla had breathed, " _What happened?"_ she'd then asked with glee.

"Well, the Triple Threats did something monumentally stupid-"

" _Do you have holos_?" Shayla had interrupted.

Isharia arched a brow, "Of course, what do you take me for?"

" _Nova,_ " Shayla had grinned in reply, " _Send them to me later_?"

"'course," Isharia had replied before getting back to the story, "anyway, the TT's had pretty much ruined his office, and I mean ruined, like, flimsisticks and balloons everywhere and the Kashyyk Life Day choir thrown in-"

"Wow _,"_ Shayla had said, looking incredibly impressed.

"-so Ashan was understandably frippin' furious. So, he comes by the lab later to tear us -and by that I mean me and them- a new one and Master Allie just stands there and says "Can I help you?" And he's all "These _miscreants"_ -and he actually called us _miscreants_ of all things, I mean _really_?- "have upset the productivity of this department for the last time!" and you could tell by the look on his face that he was gearing himself up for the shout-down of a lifetime and Master Allie just completely derails him and says, "What miscreants? The people I've met here seem to be perfectly nice and polite." And Ashan, well he's not expecting a _Jedi_ to be there and so understandably looks a little shocked but continues on anyway and fires right back with, "With all due respect, Master Jedi, that hardly has any bearing on-" and Master Allie just cuts right off and says "With all due _respect,_ Doctor, but I am attempting to have a civilised discussion with these people and I don't appreciate you casting aspersions on my judgement, so if you would kindly take your grievances _elsewhere,"_ and Ashan turned a colour I don't think is healthy for Togruta, looked constipated and stormed out. It was _glorious_." Isharia had finished with a mad grin, the very thought of the incident enough to fill her with bubbles of giddy elation.

"Oh my Force! _That must've been the best thing_ ever _,"_ Shayla had breathed in awe.

"Oh, it was," Isharia had agreed with a quick smirk but then sighed heavily, getting back to serious matters, "beyond that though, I have to go to the Temple tomorrow to talk to the Jedi Council, just to reiterate some points, but Master Allie says that it's basically all done," she had shrugged flippantly, trying to sound blasé to mask her anxiety.

" _That's fine,"_ Shayla had replied, fooled by her light subterfuge, _"you like the Temple."_

"Exactly," Isharia had nodded, but then quickly drew the focus of their conversation away from her, "just your interview with the Senator to go," she'd said, crossing her arms.

"Don't remind me!" Shayla had groaned, latching onto the new topic. Her holographic form had run a hand through her hair, messing up her perfectly styled blue waves, " _I've been researching her all day and she makes me feel like a failure. She got into politics at eight._ Eight! _I still thought that the Equinox King was real at eight!"_

' _Huh, that's impressive,'_ Isharia's eyebrows had risen almost off her head in surprise, "Wow that is young," she'd replied quietly with a frown, _'almost too young,'_ she'd thought. She wasn't sure she agreed with beginning that young, it was younger than even Brionian children were expected to start contributing to society, and Isharia would know.

"I know! _But at least she seems genuine, not like all that other Hutt druk in the senate,_ " Shayla had said, her upper lip lifting in a disgusted sneer, her casual comment on Senate corruption speaking for itself about how prevalent it was. She'd then exhaled wearily with a great gust of air, her shoulders drooping, " _Anyway, sorry to cut this short but I have to go now, got an article on trade disputes due in tomorrow,"_ she'd said, spreading her hands apologetically.

Isharia's eyes had darted to the digital chrono hovering next to her holo-comm system and she had been shocked to see how late it had gotten, "Sure," she'd replied, "Talk soon though?" she'd added.

Shayla had rolled her eyes, _"Well duh,"_ she'd stated, an _of course!_ hidden in her tone of voice. _"Toodleloo, my workaholic friend!"_ she'd waved, and then the image had cut off.

Which brought Isharia to now.

She casually locked her speeder and breathed in deep, closing her eyes, _'Alright, Isharia, you got this! It's just the Jedi High Council. Just the most talented members of a thirty-thousand-year-old order, you can do this!'_ She groaned and slumped back on her speeder with a sound of disgust, _'Who am I kidding? This is stupid. Master Yoda's going to take one look at me and say 'Trained, you are. Happen, where did this?' and Master Windu's going to scowl with those eyebrows of his.'_ She let her head fall back onto her speeder with a thump, grimacing a little at the pain and stared up at the soaring stone ceiling.

She'd heard so many stories over the years about the most revered Masters of the Order, but she'd never actually met one -a fact for which she was unspeakably grateful: her shielding was good, but not that good.

Well, it _could_ be.

But it had been _years_ since she'd had to exercise that level of caution, not since her last few months on Brion had she had to be so paranoid. But, circumstances being what they were, she had no choice. Which is why she'd spent _hours_ last night laying layer upon layer of intricate mental walls throughout the caverns of her mind: huge crystalline structures resembling the icy caves of her homeworld, littered with misleading signals and daggerlike spires. Her mind was near-impenetrable like this, but it wasn't completely blocked, that would be suspicious.

For her Force presence, she'd spread it so thin that it was practically part of the surroundings. It was a Hunter trick used for covert operations: with everyone on Brion being Force sensitive to a degree, being able to conceal oneself was of utmost importance and it was something she'd leant early on. But again, she was still perceptible, just not enough to mean anything.

She was still lost in her own thoughts and fretting when-

"Hey, is that an _Airstreamer_ _K_ - _series_?" came a voice from behind her.

Isharia violently started and spun rapidly on the spot, her own musings failing to alert her to the presence creeping up on her. She internally scolded herself for her lack of awareness and flinched when she thought of how such an oversight would have been taken on Brion. She discarded that though and examined the source of the voice: a teenage boy, obviously a Padawan if his youth, ridiculous hairstyle and braid were anything to go by, with a faint tan, blond hair and some stunning blue eyes.

Which were currently eying her speeder with the most covetous gaze she'd ever seen on a Jedi.

"By the karking Core, kid!" she scolded, clutching at her heart, her annoyance with herself manifesting in her abrupt tone, "What the brix was that for!?"

The boy tore his gaze away from her speeder for a second, before returning it to stare at the _Airstreamer_ with a hungry, awed look, "Sorry, it's just, it's a beautiful machine," he said, not sounding at all apologetic.

Despite the lacklustre apology, Isharia quickly forgave the kid as he praised her _Airstreamer_ , "Yes, she is," Isharia said, preening with second-hand pride and patting the purple paintwork. Isharia crossed her arms over her chest and watched with bemusement as the boy walked around her speeder and examined it from every angle, appraising it with what she recognised as a mechanic's eye.

"What's the engine?" he asked absently.

Isharia rolled her eyes, _'Not again,'_ she thought tiredly, having had this conversation multiple times since she'd bought her speeder, " _Airstreamer_ 4th generation repulsorlift, best the company makes," she answered, already bored. She liked speed, but she was hardly a mechanic or speeder aficionado.

" _Wizard,"_ the kid breathed, running his hand over the bonnet with an appreciative caress. He obviously was though.

Isharia sighed and resigned herself to this, "Top speed three-hundred miles per hour, nought-to-sixty in two seconds and almost seven-hundred brake horsepower, satisfied?"

The kid turned around and shot her the widest, most irresistible grin she'd ever seen (which was _strangely_ _familiar_ for some reason…) and she gasped, _'Force, he's going to be a looker one day with that bone structure and those eyes,'_ she thought incredulously, and that's when she felt his Force presence.

And by all that was holy, was it _something._

Bright and vibrant, a vivacious bonfire of wild power that burned like a sun. It had only the smallest signs of Jedi training, restrained around the edges, but fiercely flashing with sudden solar flares that broke free and flickered into the air like bursts of starfire. It felt warm and untameable, immense and barely held back: poor kid was obviously struggling to control his raw strength. It momentarily blindsided her.

So enthralled was she that she missed his question. She blinked, "Could you repeat that?" she asked.

The boy looked mildly irritated at having to repeat himself and she found herself frowning at his impatience, "I _said_ ," he began pointedly, "can I drive it?"

Isharia started, " _What!?"_ she exclaimed, taken aback, "Sith Hells no! Are you even old enough to drive?" she replied incredulously, looking him up and down, estimating his age to be about sixteen despite his height.

The kid had the nerve to look severely affronted and scowled fiercely (which made him look like a kicked puppy rather than intimidating, but she was hardly going to tell him that), "What does it matter? I used to race pods on Tatooine," he retorted brazenly, standing up straight and mirroring her position.

Isharia snorted and raised one eyebrow, "I don't give a frip what you used to do on some Outer-Rim nowhere, kid, you're not driving my speeder," she said, _'I don't envy_ his _Master,'_ she thought.

The boy's scowl deepened and took on a sulky edge, "I drive my Master," he muttered under his breath.

Isharia, having heard that, replied, "Does he have brain damage?"

"No!" he snapped, looking angry now, "My Master is the best Jedi in the Order and he-"

"Alright, alright, kid!" Isharia said, raising her hands placatingly, "I get it, he's great, moving on," she said and then peered at him with narrowed eyes, something about him tickling at her senses. "Who are you anyway?" she asked, her face scrunched in thought as she tried to remember where she recognised him from, "And have we met? You seem familiar."

The boy uncrossed his arms and shrugged awkwardly, in that loose uncomfortable way that all those not used to a sudden change in height do, "Anakin Skywalker," he said, "and I don't think so."

' _Skywalker, Skywalker, that definitely rings a bell,'_ she thought, casting her mind back, _'now where?...Aha!'_ she grasped suddenly, clicking her fingers in triumph. This was the kid from her first visit to the Temple! The one she'd wanted to kidnap! "I know you!" she exclaimed, pointing at a startled looking Anakin, "you're the boy from my first visit to the Temple! You knocked me over!" she crowed.

"That was _you!?"_ Anakin cried, looking shocked. He then frowned and pursed his lips, "Come to think of it, I do recognise you," he said slowly.

Isharia appraised the teenager in front of her with new eyes. He was a lot taller than when they met, and his skin was paler now. He had a limber sort of confidence to him, despite looking stretched out and gangly, and a quiet strength that came with using your body constantly. His movements were more solid, less wary and apologetic, and he had a strength in his poise that hadn't been there as a child.

He did seem a tad flightier though: quicker to anger and easier to frustrate.

But it was those magnificent eyes and that glorious Force presence that gave him away, those at least, remained relatively unchanged.

"Force, you've grown," she commented, having finished examining him,

He tugged at his Padawan braid, "Well, it has been seven years," he replied, "what was your name again?" he asked, looking at little sheepish for not remembering.

"Oh, don't remind me," Isharia snorted inelegantly, "it makes me feel old. And it's Isharia, Dr Isharia Ashaki."

Anakin grinned, "Good to meet you again, Doctor," he replied, before looking curiously at her, "why are you at the Temple?" he questioned with narrowed eyes.

That question reminded her where she was and why she was there. _'Shunfa! The Council!'_ Stars, she'd been wasting time down here talking to Anakin and now she was probably going to be late! _'What to do, what to do!'_ She knew the Council Chambers were at the top of the tallest spire of the Temple, but she had no kriffing idea how to get there, the whole place was a fripping maze!

She could feel the flutterwings in her stomach that she'd thought she'd gotten rid of yesterday return in full force along with all the tenseness and stress. What if the Jedi decided to refuse to let her do her research based on her poor punctuality? What if they thought it made her undisciplined and a bad influence on their younglings? What if the university got wind of it and threw her out of ST and she had to bounty hunt in the underworld instead? What if she then caught some awful illness and died?

' _Stars! It's all falling apart!'_ she moaned inside her head.

She felt something touch her shoulder and she looked up to see Anakin's face looking down at her, his blue eyes awash with concern as he frowned at her, "Are you alright?" he questioned cautiously, "I could feel you panicking."

" _No!"_ she almost wailed, turning to him with a panic in her eyes, "I have a meeting with the High Council and I don't even know how to _get_ to the High Council!" she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair with a flustered expression on her face.

"Well I can take you," Anakin replied with a shrug, seemingly unaffected by her worrying.

"Really?" Isharia asked imploringly, "Oh, you're a lifesaver," she sighed heavily, feeling like all the air had left her lungs as she slumped and rubbed a hand across her forehead, embarrassed by her outburst.

"Does this mean I get to drive your speeder?" he asked with an impish grin.

She gave him an unimpressed look from under her lashes, "Don't push it, brat."

-*8*-

The two of them made their way through the Temple, chatting as they walked. The air in the Temple was light and breezy, and it wafted around them with the subtle aroma of the sweet incense Jedi used when meditating.

Sheets of sunlight burst through the immense windows that lined the outer walls, throwing dramatic shadows onto the elegant marble floors. Everything in the Temple was a lesson in classy opulence, managing to exude wealth and power while also exuding neither. It was quiet, but a sort of hallowed quiet, interrupted only by the murmuring of the Jedi that wandered the halls and the gentle swishing of their robes as they walked.

Isharia turned to her companion, the sun through the windows lighting half his face while the rest was left in shadow; a strange shiver of foreboding shot down her spine at the sight. "So, you're from Tatooine?" she asked, making idle conversation as she absently took note of the Jedi passing them and the strange, almost suspicious looks that were shot their way.

"Yeah," Anakin said almost reluctantly, the corners of his mouth tilting down into a grimace, "the furthest from the bright heart the galaxy you can get," he answered with a disdainful sneer.

Isharia snorted at his obvious distaste for his homeworld and gave him a sidelong look, "Well I wouldn't say that," she replied, thinking on Brion and its isolationism, at least people had _heard_ of Tatooine, "you could be from Wasco," she offered with a shrug.

"Where's that?" Anakin asked with a frown.

"Exactly."

They walked a little further and turned a corner onto a sweeping hall with three turbolifts at the end. It was a huge open space, grander than the other halls they'd walked through, and its towering arched ceiling rose high above their heads. The walls were hewn from a green hued marble that dimmed the hall to a dusky twilight and turquoise stone gave the impression of being underwater.

But as glorious as all of it was, it was not what caught Isharia's attention.

No, what caught her attention was the cold, almost wary glances that some of the Jedi gave Anakin as he passed. It was more evident among the Padawans and Initiates, having less of the self-control that Jedi were famous for, but it was still there. A faint aura of distance, difficult to describe except as a lingering feeling of something…not quite connecting. It caused Isharia's back to straighten and her shoulders to tense as her face wrinkled into a frown and she cast out her mind, feeling the elusive, barely perceptible, tremors of mistrust in the Force.

She glanced at Anakin out of the corner of her eye and saw the faint clench of his jaw and the tight muscles in his neck and felt saddened. His poise was contained and defensive and his eyes were sharp and on edge. He was obviously aware of the looks he attracted, and she couldn't help the spark of old anger that burned inside her at the sight.

It was an uncomfortable throwback to her own days at the academy on Brion. The frozen side-eyed glances and the frigid stares. The pervading sense of isolation, frustration and _anger_ that had followed her around like a negative miasma and clouded everything she touched. She wouldn't wish it on anybody.

She leaned in slightly to Anakin and whispered under her breath, "Why do they look at you like that?" she murmured, glaring at a staring Senior-Padawan as he walked past.

"You noticed?" he bit out through clenched teeth.

"People don't?" she replied.

He sighed and she could see the conscious effort he was putting in to trying to relax, "No," he said tiredly, "most don't."

A wave of sympathy welled up inside her and she instinctively tried to reach out to comfort him with the Force, but stopped herself just in time when she realised what she was doing. _'Stupid!'_ she thought, _'Honestly, Isharia, trying to connect with a Jedi!'_ She settled instead for asking, "Do you know why they look at you like that?"

He turned his head away, as if unwilling to face her questions and the situation, but she could tell he was scowling. The Force shimmered and twisted in turbulent waves around him that tasted faintly of sulphur and ash. "I came to the Temple later than nearly everyone else," he said lowly, "some of them think I was too old to begin training, that I'm too _emotional,_ too _attached_ ," he ground out, sounding resentful and frustrated. His head twisted back to face her abruptly and his braid swung around his head, "It's not _fair,_ " he almost growled.

' _Well that sounds familiar,'_ she thought sardonically as she watched him, _'oh, the irony, Kuni'van'tro is laughing at me.'_ There was a flash in her mind, a fleeting vision of a small, pale child with white hair that _loved loved loved_ her parents and was distained for it. Of that child _hating_ in the face of apathy and how that only made it worse.

Though it was not much, she offered what consolation she could, resting a comforting hand on his arm and saying, "I don't know much about being a Jedi, but if it helps, people never liked me much when I was at school," she smirked, "but I showed them in the end," _'Yes I did.'_

He gave her a hesitant smile back, the anger still twisting the air around him but much less now, "Thanks," he said surprised, but then frowned, "I never asked, but why do you have a meeting with the Council?"

She sighed, the nervousness making itself apparent again as it squirmed and writhed in her gut, "I'm actually starting a research project here at the Temple," she said.

Anakin's eyebrows rose, "Really?" he replied.

"Yep," she stated, "On brain development in Force sensitives."

"Huh," Anakin's brow furrowed in consideration, "that actually sounds interesting," he murmured, sounding quietly surprised by his own admission. He met her gaze, "So does that mean that you'll be studying the younglings?" he asked.

"Mmhm," she hummed in agreement, "It should honestly be fascinating," she said, a passionate fire lighting in her gaze, "no-one's really touched on this stuff before so I should be able to find out some interesting things." A spark of inspiration suddenly hit her and she cast narrowed, assessing eyes on her companion, " _Actually_ ," she said slowly and thoughtfully, her mind buzzing, "I'd quite like to study you as well," she said.

Anakin's eyes widened and he stopped, "Me? Why?" he said in shock.

She let her gaze sweep over his tall form and her Force senses linger on his bonfire presence, "Well," she began, trying to frame her fluttering thoughts in a coherent manner, "by your own admission, you came to the Temple late, which means your formative years were totally different, it'd be interesting to see if that had an effect," her face relaxed and she shrugged, "it'd hardly be perfect, a sample size of one doesn't exactly lead to conclusive results, but it'd be interesting all the same," she finished, looking up at him and waiting for an answer.

Anakin looked at little awkward at that and he tugged on his braid, "Uh," he said, "I suppose?"

She grinned back at him, large and wide, "Nova, maybe I'll even let you drive my speeder as a reward."

His answering smile could outshine suns, "Wizard."

They entered the turbolift then: the inside of it was sleek, metallic and clean, the total opposite to the ones where she lived. Well, everything here was opposite to where she lived, her building was hardly the most desirable real-estate on Coruscant.

Anakin pressed a button on the wall to his left and the lift shot upwards, he turned to her, "Council room's at the top of this spire, these lifts are at the centre of the Temple," he said in explanation.

She breathed a quiet sigh, this was it, the last hurdle to navigate, arguably the most intimidating one too. All that stood between her and the Jedi High Council was this lift journey and a door. She could feel her panic mounting again and she desperately checked her shields to see if they were holding. They were steady so far, but how would they fair against the Council?

This was almost as bad a facing her grandmother, almost, but not quite. As terrifying as the notion of the Jedi Council was, it wasn't quite the emotionless white stare of the queen of Brion.

She took a deep breath through her nose and forced herself to calm down, she had been worried about yesterday, but that had turned out fine, with any luck this should be the same. She furiously sought a way to distract herself, she turned to Anakin, "Thanks for taking me," she said gratefully, "I hope I'm not making you miss anything."

Anakin shrugged, a lazy rise and fall of his shoulders, "It's fine," he said dismissively, "my Master's in the Halls of Healing after our last mission, so I don't really have anywhere to be at the moment. I was in the hangars to do some work on the speeders," he said, fiddling with his Padawan braid.

Isharia shot him a satisfied smile, happy to have her musings confirmed, "Ah, I thought you might be a mechanic," she said, nudging his shoulder playfully, "you were looking at my speeder the same way my Zeltron friend looks at men," she said with a devious smirk.

He swayed a little when she pushed into him and blushed bright red, scowling, "I was not!" he retorted indignantly, "I was just appreciating it! It's a lot nicer than the ones the Temple owns," he finished huffily, crossing his arms.

"You'll find no disagreement from me there," she allowed and grinned internally at his offended demeanour; he may have been a moody teenager, but he was still just as adorable as that nine-year-old that had run into her seven years ago. Though she suspected she might feel differently if she lived with him, based on his grouchy frown.

The _ding!_ of the lift as it reached the top floor jolted her from her thoughts, and she gulped as the doors slid open. _'Ah, shavit,'_ she sighed and willed her heart to slow down, not daring to use the Force for stability this close to the Council, the absence of the crutch amplifying her anxiety to new levels. She felt little trembles run through her fingers and her legs felt all limp and noodlely, Force this was unpleasant and she prayed silent for balance during the coming discussion.

Anakin cast her confused glance as he obviously felt her building stress and opened his mouth to say something before she beat him to it.

"Well," she said tremulously, "here I go," and she stepped out of the lift.

Anakin stood for moment, locked in an internal debate before shrugging a little to himself and stepping out to follow. Leaving the lift, he looked around uncomfortably, his eyes drifting over the hall to the Council Chambers with a nervous, wary edge, the whole thing made more noticeable by his gangly teenage awkwardness. "I should probably go now," he said to her rocking back and forth on his feet, "Good luck," he bid half-heartedly, those blue eyes shining.

She decided to take a little pity on him, remembering the gazes in the halls and the fact that he had nowhere to go, "Alright," she exhaled wearily, ' _Ah, who's it gonna hurt?'_ "this _hopefully_ shouldn't take too long, so if you wait here we can grab some caf in the commissary after and I can tell you all about it," she offered with a smile she hoped was inviting.

He lit up and straightened, he features brightening as he was presented with a more pleasant way to spend the day, "Sure!" he grinned, "there are some seats outside the Council Chambers, I'll wait there."

Isharia rolled her eyes, _'Teenagers,'_ "Come on then," she sighed as she followed the narrow corridor that led to the Council rooms. Anakin jogged after her and she opened her mind just a little to feel the glowing nexus in the Force dead ahead.

It was… _Wow._ It just _was_.

If the Temple as a whole was special, the part of it from which the Council presided was something else. The Force was _heavy_ here, bowed and weighted from the galaxy changing decisions that had been made in these rooms. She could practically taste the history in the air here: a rich, bittersweet flavour that had no real form but held within it the notes of so many _maybes_ and opportunities taken and missed.

She couldn't help but gasp, which had Anakin looking at her strangely. The Force was just so _powerful_ here, it shone, it sang, it called and whispered of the Jedi and their unique history and duty. You could really feel the Order's many millennia here. The only place she had comparable was deep, deep under Sing'dai palace, where buried miles below the ice the ruins of the ancient Illum'ash'il temple sat. But that was distant and muted and hidden.

But still it had that… _cold_ edge to it that the entire Temple had, the _Kim'ar,_ stark and blinding and empty. Just like Brion. But here, clouded, as if clawed fingers had been picking at it, distorting the thread.

She filed that thought away though, in the section of her mind dedicated to all the worrying signs she'd noticed in the Force and desperately needed to mediate on.

Change, it seemed, was coming.

That train of thought was pushed aside though the moment she saw a familiar robed figure standing outside a pair of ornate wooden doors, she smiled and jogged forward, "Master Allie!" she cried waving.

Master Allie turned her head to Isharia and returned her smile with a serene one of her own, her violet eyes glowing and bright, "Doctor Ashaki," she greeted, walking forward, "you're just in time."

"Thank the Core for that!" she exclaimed in gratitude, mentally thanking every God she knew, "Stars, I was worried I was going to be late!" she exhaled, some of the stress slipping form her shoulders with the presence of her moral support.

"No, no, you're fine," Master Allie assured, a faint smile on her lips and her eyes shining with mirth, "the Council are still wrapping up their last meeting," she rolled her eyes, "they met with the Chancellor the other day and they're still talking about it."

Isharia snorted with disgust, her lips slipping into a grimace and nose wrinkling, "Urgh, politics," she grunted, "I try to stay as far away from it as I can," she stated derisively.

Master Allie sighed and shook her head, "Not all of us have the luxury, I'm afraid." She then finally noticed Anakin standing behind Isharia and her brows rose in surprise, "Padawan Skywalker, what you are doing here?" she asked, her rich voice laced with confusion.

Isharia waved away her question before Anakin could answer, not wanting for him to get in trouble, "Oh, he's with me," she said smiling, "he offered to escort me up here, I was panicking and didn't know the way," she finished, directing a thankful smile Anakin's way, which had him puffing up a little with pride.

"Oh?" Master Allie questioned, drifting her eyes between them: Isharia's happy, if nervous smile and Anakin's proud smirk, "well I suppose I must thank you then, Padawan Skywalker, for helping our guest."

"It was nothing," he replied arrogantly, that proud look still on his face. He then leaned against the wall with feigned nonchalance, before losing his balance and almost falling over. Stumbling, he regained his footing and blood rushed to his cheeks.

Isharia sniggered while Master Allie gifted him with a severely unimpressed look which made his cheeks darker still. Master Allie sighed, "Well, if that's all, you should return to your studies, Padawan," she stated, giving him a pointed look and folding her arms into her sleeves.

"Actually, Master Allie," Isharia interrupted hesitantly, "I asked Anakin to wait here for me," she turned to look at the Padawan, who was now glaring at the wall and shuffling his feet, "we were going to get caf after, weren't we, brat," she said with an impish grin, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Anakin turned back around to shoot her a disgruntled look that made him look like an irritable tooka, and patted his hair as if to flattened the short strands. The action only made her grin widen.

Master Allie sighed, "Well, I suppose," she said and gave Anakin a reproving look, "as long as you don't miss any classes."

Anakin bowed, "Of course not, Master," he replied.

There was a ripple in the Force, not unlike a tap on the head and the three of them simultaneously looked to the doors. "Well, it looks like it's time to go in," Master Allie said, glancing at Isharia.

Isharia took a deep breath as her nerves came back in full force, "Righty-ho then," she said with a weak smile and as much confidence as she could muster, "Into the valley of death and all that."

Master Allie gave her an incredulous, amused look, "They're not that bad," she said in what she probably thought was a conciliatory tone.

Behind her Anakin snorted, which did nothing for her nerves and she turned around and flicked his forehead, "You are not helping, kid," she reprimanded.

He rubbed at the place she had flicked with an unhappy scowl, "What? It's the truth," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, I don't need to hear it," she poked his chest. He scowled and batted her hand away and she sighed, "stay here until I get back, you can show me where all the best caf is."

"Whatever," he muttered and rolled his eyes.

Isharia turned back to Master Allie, and with a deep, fortifying breath said, "Shall we then?"

-*8*-

Isharia didn't quite know what she expected from the Jedi Council, but it wasn't this.

They were the most frustrating, difficult people she'd ever met. Individually, she was sure they were charming, but together, she wanted to bash their heads together.

"What I would like to know, is how this would benefit the Order," asked Master Koth, a tall Zabrak with stern features and long, luscious dark hair.

Isharia bit back a growl of pure frustration as she repeated herself for what felt like the tenth time today. She had no idea how long they'd been in here debating this, but even Master Allie looked like she was being pushed to the limits of her Jedi patience.

"It benefits the Order because not only does it expand your knowledge on the power that _you use_ and how it effects _your_ _biology_ , but it also potentially provides proof to the public that what you do isn't strange magic, but an actual scientific phenomenon that can be studied. It makes you, as a group, more approachable and easier for many to stomach, because, if you don't mind me staying, the majority of people think that you're magical baby-snatching wizards and don't trust you. How can you be peacekeepers if no-one thinks you're trustworthy?" she implored, trying very hard not to let her annoyance show.

"I, my fellow Jedi, can see the wisdom in such a study and the benefits it could bring," said Master Mundi, an older male humanoid with kind eyes. His cranium was strangely elongated in a way she hadn't seen before and when she'd first entered, she'd idly wondered on the purpose of such a thing. He brought his fingers together, "We have, many of us experienced the disconnect between the Order and the people we claim to serve," he said pensively, brow furrowed in thought, "on Malastare, on Tatooine, even here on Coruscant, there are those don't trust us merely because we are Jedi, because who we are is strange to them."

"I agree, Master Mundi," chimed in Master Rancisis, a Thisspiasian with long white hair covering his entire face and sharp claw-like nails, "however, you fail to consider what participating in this would mean for our Initiates. They follow a strict doctrine, guided by centuries of tradition, for a reason." He gestured toward Isharia, standing in the centre of the room, trying hard not to fidget or shift her weight too much out of impatience, "Dr Ashaki here may mean well, but any deviation from tradition could have lasting ramifications for them, and lead them down paths they should not tread."

"Your words are wise, Master Rancisis, but fear such as this may hold us back," rebutted Master Koon, his voice deepened and distorted by his mask, "It is my experience that a Jedi must know themselves before being able to understand others. Would it not be prudent for us to seek to expand our understanding of the Force? There would be Jedi on hand at all times to see to the younglings if anything went wrong."

There was a moment of aggravating silence as all the Jedi fell quiet to consider what had just been said. Isharia fought very hard to keep back the scream building in her throat as she pleaded within her mind that they _all please hurry up!_

"It seems to me," Master Piell said, breaking the silence and scratching at the long, distinctive scar on his face, "that there are both positives and negatives to this," he stated, "on one hand," he said, gesturing, "we potentially gain an increased understanding of the Force and better relations with the public; on the other, we could inadvertently expose our younglings to dangers they are not ready to face."

Master Rancisis sighed and tapped his claws on the arms of his chair, "We have done fine for centuries without full public approval, the Jedi continue to serve regardless of what is thought of us. But even a single Dark-sider is highly dangerous and potentially devastating for the galaxy, it's a risk I'd rather not take," he finished with an apologetic look Isharia's way.

Isharia scowled internally at that, wasn't that just the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard? She knew what people on Coruscant said of the Jedi in the shadows of the underworld where they thought they wouldn't be heard. Corrupt kidnappers at the beck-and-call of a failing system, pristine monks in their ivory towers, detached and removed from the suffering around them; _Ilumin'ar_ even she thought badly of the Jedi at times!

Public opinion was dangerous and fickle and no one Dark-sider was as dangerous the enmity of the galaxy's some hundred quadrillion inhabitants.

She had to clench her hands tight, nails marking crescents on her palm, to restrain herself from making comment.

But it was Master Gallia, another Tholothian, that voiced what was inside her head. She scoffed, loudly, "That, Master Rancisis, is hardly true," she said with a disapproving look, "Our efforts to do our jobs have been hindered time and again by those that don't respect us. Masters Piell and Windu will surely agree with me that part of our problem when negotiating on Malastare was due to a lack of respect and understanding of our Order. We have no official positions in the galaxy, we rely on good faith and trust for people to listen to us, if we don't do something to improve ourselves in the eyes of the general population, I fear our problems will be larger than potential Dark-siders," she said, with what Isharia would call pointed criticism from anyone who wasn't a Jedi.

Master Allie appeared to have reached the end of her patience as she quickly stepped forward before anyone else could speak, "My cousin speaks the truth," she said with a nod to Master Gallia.

' _Cousin?'_ Isharia thought with surprise and let her eyes flick between the two Jedi to see if she could see any similarities in their features.

"We, on the Circle of Healers, believe that Dr Ashaki's study could be highly beneficial to both us and the Order at large," she stated before taking a deep breath and launching into her appeal, "Honoured Masters, we the Jedi serve the Force, and yet we have very little idea what that means. Long have we studied its prophecies, its powers and the all-encompassing glory of the Light, yet we so rarely touch on what all of it means physically."

She began to pace the room, her eyes distant and focused, brows furrowed with deep thought, "We know of midichlorians and thanks to Dr Ranil we understand on a greater level than ever before what large concentrations of them mean for us as physical beings, but we know next to nothing on how our constant interaction with the Force affects our brains." She stopped in the very centre of the room and faced the Council as one, "The brain is arguably where the most important part of us resides: it contains the chemical reactions that control who we are and how we see the world, it shapes our personalities and our actions. We are luminous beings, yes, but we must not forget we are flesh too.

"It is my belief, and many of my fellow healers, that it is high time we unravel the mysteries of the biological portion of the Force, that we begin to broaden our understanding of how the Force affects us not just spiritually but physically too. Too long we have let advanced practical knowledge and application of the Force be the domain of the Sith and others in the Dark, too long have we neglected to pursue even the most basic understanding of the science of the Force; we should not be held paralysed by abstract fears of possible eventualities when the reality right now is that we don't know enough.

"And if by some happy coincidence we make ourselves more understandable, approachable, it can only be a good thing. I am rarely in the field but even I know that the Order is distrusted by most and reviled by some, we are close to becoming mythicised to the point where most will think us but a story. It is my fervent hope that we can begin to bridge the gap and the holes in our understanding too. It is my belief that Dr Ashaki's study is the first step on a long road to a better, more educated Jedi Order," Master Allie finished by sweeping into a deep bow, her headdress floating around her with the swift, graceful move, "I can only hope, Masters, that you heed my words," she said solemnly.

Isharia had to take a moment to scrape her jaw off the floor and put her eyes back in her head. She had no _idea_ that Master Allie believed in her project that much, that she had such faith in it and her, it was incredibly touching and a little terrifying. She couldn't help the warm swell of affection that rose within her towards the Tholothian Jedi, and she felt tears begin to build behind her eyes at the sheer honour of having earned that much respect.

She unconsciously straightened and lifted her head, Master Allie's words had eased some of the tension that had built up over hours of debate and circular discussion and she felt _miles_ more confident about the outcome of this meeting now. She could almost touch success, bright and shining and golden.

The entire Jedi Council appeared to be struck silent by Master Allie's words, their serene figures still with careful contemplation. Although Master Gallia, Master Koon and Master Mundi gave off the impression that they were hiding smiles.

It was Master Windu that spoke first, the Korun Jedi, leaning forward to rest his chin on a hand balanced upon his knee, he looked at Master Allie first, tall and radiating peace, and then focused his intense gaze on her, making her squirm uncomfortably under such an appraisal, "I hear the wisdom in both arguments, and Master Allie's eloquent plea does much to ease my doubts," he then leant back and eyed them both over steepled hands, "however, that being said, I find myself cautious in approaching such an unknown." He sighed and closed his eyes, "The Force is clouded in this and I find myself unable to perceive the right path, if we continue to discuss this I fear we will never reach a consensus," he turned his gaze toward the only being in the room that had yet to speak, "Master Yoda, what say you?"

The ancient Jedi Master rested his hands on the staff draped across his crossed legs and hummed, an odd rhythmic noise. The other Jedi in the room appeared completely focused on the old alien and his silhouette shone where the piercing sunlight of Coruscant's star washed over him through the wide panoramic windows of the Council Chambers.

It was a potent sight, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order sat in his chair aglow with the sunlight of the Republic's capital world. Isharia's breath caught in her throat with awe or apprehension she couldn't tell; she could almost _see_ the Force surrounding him, the incandescent swirls of power and peace singing from his form; she felt frozen, caught in the foreign brilliance, so different from those with power on her homeworld.

The old Jedi breathed in deep and closed his eyes and suddenly there was...a _ripple_ in the Force, it was the only way she could describe it, a build and release in tension in the fabric of all things originating from Master Yoda. A strange heavy wave of power that sped through her and out into the galaxy, touching her spirit all over but somehow not invasive.

Master Yoda opened his eyes, "See much, I do," he said in that odd backwards way of talking that was famous throughout the Temple, "but see I do not, much more," he hummed again and shook his head, "clouded, the Force is. For many years, this has been. But no more, I sense, around this study. Beneficial for the Order, this would be, but a departure from tradition also. Right to be wary we are, but given to fear, we should not be," he stated with a nod. Some the other Masters manged to look vaguely chastised by this, and a few validated, but Master Yoda continued, "Listened I have, to all arguments, wisdom in both there is, one right answer there is not."

Master Yoda looked straight at her, his ancient eyes gazing straight into her soul and she shuddered as she felt the strange, contained, almost _empty_ warmth of his Force presence brush up against her, "Approve I do, of your project, Doctor. Authorise it, I will, but concessions I have," his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, "Overseen by the Jedi you will be, if too far you go, terminated it will I. Power knowledge is, knowledge of the Jedi and the Force even more so, not just the Jedi could it corrupt," he sighed, "begin soon you may, a creche chapter you will be assigned, great risk we are taking, trusting you with our younglings," he finished gravely.

Isharia was overcome, approval from the top, authorisation from the highest levels, she was at a loss for words. She bowed deeply, unconsciously her hands slipping into the Brionian symbol for greatest respect, "I am most honoured, Master," she said, meaning every word and breathed a sigh of relief. This was everything she had been waiting for, and all she had dreamed for _years_ now. Her chance, her moment, and like _kriff_ was she going to screw it up.

Master Allie cast an approving glance her way and a soft hidden smile, some of the Masters looked disgruntled by this outcome but she wasn't going to let them get her down! She smiled broadly, bright and relieved, "I won't disappoint you!" she declared, solemnly swearing this to oath inside her mind.

Master Yoda nodded and smiled, "Trust that you don't, we do," he banged his staff against the patterned floor once, "adjourned this meeting is, but stay a moment, Doctor, wish to speak to you I do."

And…there was the bucket of cold water to douse her happiness.

The other Jedi took that as their cue to leave and rose with strange, otherworldly grace, their robes rustling softly as they moved. Several of them cast suspicious glances her way while others like Master Gallia shot her a small smile and Master Koon a curious glance. Master Allie reached over and squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of support and Isharia directed a small grateful glance her way. The Tholothian leant down briefly to whisper some words of encouragement, "Master Yoda may seem intimidating at first, but you have nothing to worry about, he's one of the wisest, kindest beings in the galaxy," she murmured quietly.

Isharia reached up and squeezed the hand still resting on her shoulder in gratitude and muttered a quick, "Thanks," in reply.

The Jedi gave her one last soft smile and hurried off to catch up with her cousin, leaving only her and the Grandmaster of the Order in the room.

Isharia reflexively clenched and unclenched her hands and chewed at the inside of her mouth, her stomach performed a full acrobatics routine and she wriggled her toes nervously within her shoes. So high above a city and faced with such a nexus of power, it was eerily reminiscent of her days reporting to her grandmother in her suites high above Sing'dai and it inspired much of the same feelings. The disquieting silence, the heavy weight of the Force, the way her mind hardened and sharpened: crystal clarity analysis of the situation and the wariness that hovered on the end of her mental control.

It was an unconscious change in her bearing, a hidden intensity in her eyes that was purely Brionian surfacing and the utter retraction of her Force presence so that she gave nothing away.

She knew logically that Master Yoda was not her grandmother, but that didn't change how much the power she felt alone in the room with him reawakened the instincts she'd once needed to survive. The Force thrummed potent and waiting, she subconsciously used it to heighten her awareness so that every single floating dust mote pinged on her senses and it eased somewhat the tension that had overcome her in the shadow of the Jedi's great power.

Master Yoda must've have sensed the change within her as his ageless eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and if she hadn't been on high alert she wouldn't have noticed.

It was rather ironic that her own involuntary responses were going to give her away.

Master Yoda lifted one clawed had and traced invisible patterns through the sunlight and blinked, long and slow, "Strange you feel in the Force, Doctor," he said, gazing at her with Force-heightened focus, "like ice and crystal you are, but so faint, almost impossible to sense it is. Wonder I do, where you learnt this," he said, standing up from his seat and walking over to her.

She tensed and without really thinking, balanced her weight, ready to strike. There was an impossible tension hanging in the room and in the Force; inside her mind she berated herself for her stupidity and ingrained reactions, _what the kriff was she thinking!? She was giving herself away after_ years _of successfully hiding!_ But the adrenaline coursing through her veins would not be silenced and Master Yoda's careful analysis of her set her on edge. Her eyes watched and saw his every micro-expression, counted every eyelash.

 _What was she even doing! Master Yoda had only_ just _approved her study! He was going to take that back after this!_

She forced herself to take a deep calming breath and relax, mentally shoving her fear behind locked doors and releasing the frozen grip she had on the Force. The room reverted to a lesser state and her awareness dimmed. She met the Jedi Master's eyes, trying desperately to appear neutral as the panic and rush mixed under her skin, "I'm not sure what you mean," she said carefully.

The diminutive Master scoffed, " _Hmpft_ ," he let out and jabbed her sharply in the shin with his staff, she hissed in shock more than pain and scowled. "Lie to me you should not," he said by way of reason and raised an eyebrow at her.

She kept silent, anything she said would either give more away or make her look stupid, but felt a little disgruntled at being chastised like a child.

The Jedi sighed at her silence, "Sense your fear I do, necessary it is not," he said reprovingly. "Other Force traditions there are, that I know, some strange, some cold," he glanced at her before closing his eyes, his ears twitching as he breathed, "Dark you are not, so worried I am not, powerful you are, but controlled, so very controlled. Allow you access to the younglings I do, but not without reservation; clouded the Force is, allies I fear the Jedi will need." He opened his eyes and looked at her, long and assessing, "Know us you do, good thing this may be, but over this is not," he finished and walked to the door without a backward glance.

Isharia stood in the centre of the room with an odd look on her face and her confusion ringing in the air.

She had the strangest sense that the old Jedi was laughing at her.


	8. Chapter 8: Revelations

**By the Light of a Dying Star**

Chapter 7: Revelations

 **A/N: S'up everyone, or whoever reads really. Been a few months, hope your 2018's going well so far, verdict's still out on mine. Been busy since Christmas so this has been sat around for awhile, I hope you like it, shout out btw to ColdOnePaul, I see you there, thanks for your encouragement, super appreciate it and I hope this fulfils your expectations! As always comments, criticisms welcome, I check mine own work so apologies in advance for mistakes and...well...enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars isn't mine**

* * *

Isharia stood alone in the Council chambers for several minutes after Master Yoda left, taking the time to collect herself after their strange exchange and berate herself for her transparency. A few minutes alone with the old Jedi and she had completely exposed herself, it was idiotic in the extreme and more than a little embarrassing. All her meditation and training, all the effort she had gone to to shield her mind and obscure herself, it had all been for naught.

It was…. frustrating, if she was honest with herself: what use was years of discipline training if it all fell apart within seconds?

But he had reminded her so much of her grandmother, standing there filled with the Force; it was eerie and unnerving and apparently enough to send her on full alert. They had the same intensity -albeit different types-, the same carefully controlled aura of strength and heavy stare. Two immensely powerful beings used to being in command.

And that was without thinking on what he had actually said.

She sighed to herself in the quiet confines of the Council rooms and gazed out at the bustling skyline of Coruscant, taking a moment to appreciate the spectacular view. The sky was a powdered blue, a faded pastel colour strewn with blackened lines of traffic and the forms of lower atmospheric spacecraft, hovering at the edges of the planet.

It stuck her momentarily just how alien it was, and, just for a second, she felt incredibly alone.

She shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts, internally chiding herself for her silliness. She had been the one who left her home planet in the first place, and she had been more alone there than she'd ever been on Coruscant.

But sometimes it was… hard, being the only one of her race for lightyears. There were cultural hang-ups and quirks that no one else would understand and it was just plain tiring having to hide anything that marked her as different. Force, she couldn't even speak Balthur without attracting strange looks. As much a she resented her home world, there were times she would give anything to see the strange monochromatic forms of her people.

But enough of that, she had received the final clearance she needed for her research to go through and _didn't that feel good?_ By _Ilumin'ar,_ she felt so happy she could sing! Gods it had been such a long shot when she'd come up with it, pretty much everyone had told her it wouldn't be approved, but here she was standing at the highest point of the Jedi Temple just having had the _Jedi Council_ and _Grandmaster of the Order_ give her the go-ahead. Talk about impossible scenarios!

She smirked to herself, _hah!_ If her grandmother could see her now!

Rolling her shoulders and wincing at the tightness that she felt there, she decided it was time to leave. Force, poor Anakin had been sat outside the door the entire time the Council had been fussing, rehashing the same points again and again; she could feel his immense Force presence flickering still at the edge of her senses. ' _Poor kid,'_ she thought to herself with a grimace, _'that cannot have been fun.'_

She took one last lingering look at the circular ring of seats and the impressive vista of Galactic City and walked out.

As she left, she spotted Anakin sat on an uncomfortable looking seat set between two ornamental plants by the wall. His young face was scrunched up in concentration as he studied a complicated piece of machinery he had cradled in his hands. He kept twisting it around, flicking it between hands as he gazed intently at the different angles, looking for Force-only-knows-what. When he heard the door open his head snapped up, and, seeing Isharia, he pocketed the gadget and shot to his feet.

"How was it?" he asked before she could speak, "Master Allie wouldn't tell me and you were in there _ages_ ," he groaned.

She gave him a broad grin, letting all the joy she felt at the outcome of the meeting reflect on her face, "Success!" she crowed triumphantly, bouncing over to the Padawan, "Permission from _Master Yoda himself_ to start the study!"

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise before his face lit up in a beaming smile, "Wizard!" he cried excitedly, "And from Master Yoda too? He's kinda by the book, I wouldn't have thought he'd say yes."

Isharia shrugged and pursed her lips in thought, casting her mind back over the entire mind-numbing debate. Yoda hadn't said a word until the very end which _had_ struck her as a little strange. "Maybe he just felt that now was the time," she shrugged dismissively, even as she had trouble believing her own words.

' _Ah well,'_ she thought with a sigh, _'more to worry on later.'_

Anakin scoffed, "Yeah right," he snorted derisively, "he's like a thousand years old, if he wanted to change, he would have done it before now."

Isharia quirked a brow at her young companion, "What? You don't think it was my amazing skills as a persuasive speaker?" she replied, nudging him good humouredly.

Anakin rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets, "If it were that easy some senator would have done it _years_ ago," he retorted, "and besides," he added with a sidelong glance, "if you were that good you'd be a politician not a doctor."

"You never know," Isharia waggled her eyebrows, "I could have mad skillz," she said, wiggling her fingers at him with a smirk.

Anakin shot her a look that was all unimpressed teenager and she snorted with laughter at the pure exasperation there, "Whatever," he replied with a tone of finality, "I'm just happy for you, even if it did take hours." He frowned and looked at her enquiringly, "What were they even _talking_ to you about?"

Isharia waved a hand absently, "To be honest? I have no idea. I stopped paying attention after the first hour," she answered wryly.

Anakin made a weird snuffling noise that sounded like an aborted laugh, "Wish I could get away with that," he said miserably, "when I tune out in front of the Council, I never hear the end of it. Master says that I need to work on my attention span," he looked at his feet and scowled.

Isharia gave him an amused glance, "Oh, get pulled up in front of the Council a lot then, do you?" she asked and smirked when he glared harder at the ground and his expression turned sour.

"Yeah, well, it's not our fault!" he retorted petulantly, "all our missions just seem to go _wrong_ ," he complained.

Isharia sighed and reached over to ruffle his hair, earning an indignant glower, "Come on, kid, I'm just messing," she said, her lips quirking up at the corners, "and anyway, I thought you were going to show me where they keep the good caf, I seriously need some after listening to _that_ for hours."

Anakin grimaced in commiseration before humming in thought, "Well I don't know about caf, the stuff in the commissary tastes like bantha-dung and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but my master has some extra fancy tea in our quarters. I'm pretty good at brewing it by now and you seem nice so I don't think he'd mind," he ended with a shrug.

Isharia frowned and narrowed her eyes, "Are you sure?" she asked, not wanting to intrude on the living space of someone she had only just met, "I don't want to impose."

Anakin just waved a hand dismissively, "It's fine," he said nonchalantly, "you seem way more interesting than some of the boring people he has over sometimes, and you have better taste in speeders," he finished.

Isharia smiled slyly at him and her eyes glinted mischievously, "Why, Anakin, compliments and an invitation to your rooms? Moving at little fast, aren't we?" she teased, watching in delight as he gaped at her like a fish.

"I-I-it's not like that!" he spluttered, his face turning beet red, "That's not what I meant!"

"Oh? Not your type then, am I?"

"No! What? I mean… you're, um… I think…" he stammered, fumbling around for the appropriate response, all the while growing steadily redder.

She watched him for a few torturous seconds with a grin on her face as he scrabbled about looking for the right words before finally taking pity on him. "Alright, alright!" she laughed, stopping his stream of meaningless words as it came, "I was just playing with you!" she said with a wide smile before shaking her head, "You really need to lighten up."

"Right," Anakin said, tugging nervously on his Padawan braid and looking at her with mild panic in his blue eyes, "sure."

Isharia rolled her eyes, "I'm a bit old for you anyway," she stated meeting his wide eyes. With a playful smirk, she quickly reached out and took his arm, too fast for him to react, "Now," she said looking up at him, "where are going for this tea?"

~~*8*~~

They made their way back to the turbolift at the end of the hall and stepped inside. Isharia kept her hand wrapped around Anakin's arm, finding it amusing how uncomfortable it apparently made him. As they stood in companionable quiet descending the building, he kept shooting her hand awkward glances, as if he were trying to figure out how to extract himself without offending her.

She found the whole thing rather funny, and she kept her grip on him mainly to see just how long it would take before he either said something or gave up. Jedi, as a rule, weren't really physically affectionate, they all seemed to have an innate respect for another's personal space: a trait lacking in most of the population.

She had found out fairly early on that most of them had no real idea how to react to touch. Working in a lab with them, it wasn't hard to pick up on how they flinched and startled at casual touches: hands on shoulders and arms, friendly nudges and the occasional hug. The younger ones were never as bad, but the older Knights and Masters always reacted with a weird level of social awkwardness that was as sad as it was endearing.

Isharia supposed that she understood better than most, people on Brion _never_ touched, even among family it was considered odd. And as much as all their minds were linked and woven, bodies were an entirely separate thing. They were a fundamentally touch starved society.

It had been a shock, to be sure, leaving Brion and seeing how touchy-feely much of the rest of the galaxy were. She can remember clearly just how startled she had been when a friendly Ithorian on her Star Tours flight to Coruscant had slapped her back with good humour, or that Twi'lek on Bonadan had leant up against her in flirtation. It had been jarring, an extremely foreign and borderline uncomfortable situation for someone who hadn't really been touched other than in fights.

She imagined it was similar for the Jedi, expect perhaps not as extreme. Jedi did touch, just not often, and while it may seem cruel for her to be antagonising Anakin like this, she got the distinct sense that he was uncomfortable less from the contact and more from the fact he was a teenage boy and she was a strange woman hanging off his arm.

She grinned internally as he took one last look at where she held on to his arm and seemed to sigh to himself in resignation. _'Giving up it is then,'_ she thought with a smile and went back to idly waiting for their descent to finish.

"So where exactly are we going then?" she asked her young companion, in order to break the silence.

"The north-eastern quarter, all the Jedi are housed in that part of the Temple," Anakin told her, running his eyes idly of the Order crest marked into the turbolift doors, "most Master-Padawan pairs have conjoined apartments over there, it's close to the Archives and the library."

"Makes sense," Isharia replied with a shrug, "you got a nice view?"

"Oh yeah, amazing really, we've got external wall quarters so we actually have a view rather than a holographic screen," he answered, turning to look down at her. There was a strange pause for a few seconds before he spoke again, "Uh, what about you?" he asked awkwardly, before visibly cringing at himself, she could sense his embarrassment through the Force.

She smiled to herself, thinking back on her own awkward lift ride with Master Allie the day before, she imagined the situation was rather similar, "My view?" she repeated, humouring him, "Hmm, it's decent I suppose, as far as Coruscant goes anyway," she replied, thinking on the looming towers that dominated outside her windows and the omnipresent traffic, "I'm skyside so that has to count for something," she finished absently, her eyes drifting over the artistic swirls etched into the metal of the lift.

They stood for a few more moments, the only sounds the slick mechanical whirring of the turbolift and fidgety scuffing of Anakin's boots on the floor. He really wasn't the type to do well with stillness, she supposed as she discretely watched him out of the corner of her eye, he seemed too bright, too…vibrant. His whole body practically vibrated with contained energy and his Force presence writhed and burst like a young sun.

He reminded her, once more, of herself. As a child she'd had a nervous energy about her that had made it almost impossible for her to focus, a kind of irrepressible force that had made her a menace to all her teachers and the palace officials that would stare at her with those frozen eyes. She'd been brimming, overfilled and bursting with never-ending questions and a boundless desire to _know_. Thinking back on it now always brought a bittersweet smile to her face, an abstract mourning for things that had been lost. She missed those days when the world was so easy, when even the harshness of Brion seemed soft.

Anakin flexed his back and rolled his shoulders, his eyes darting back and forth across the door, "Whereabouts do you live then?" he suddenly blurted, although there was genuine curiosity in his voice as he peered down at her.

"Fobosi District," Isharia answered, meeting his eyes and patting his arm, "nearish to the university, places there are discounted for university employees."

Anakin hummed in thought, "That's a fair distance from here," he commented, his eyebrows furrowing as he mentally calculated the route, "why not live closer if you're going to be here all the time?"

Isharia snorted incredulously and laughed, letting go of him, "You serious, kid?" she said with a humourless smile, "Where?" she asked, "By the Senate? The Temple? Prices here are through the karking roof! I'd have to go fifteen-hundred levels down before I found something I could afford," she shook her head wryly, "I think I'll pass, I'd rather pay for speeder fuel that live that far down."

Anakin blushed and looked away in embarrassment, "Oh," he muttered awkwardly, "yeah that would be a problem," he stated rather sheepishly. He sighed and shifted from foot to foot, "Jedi don't have money or possessions," he said apologetically, turning back to her, "so we kinda forget that other people do."

Isharia huffed and quirked an eyebrow at him, "I've noticed," she said, amusement colouring her tone. She couldn't count the number of times over the years that she had complained about prices on Coruscant, or her pay, or student fees to Jedi only to be met with blank, uncomprehending looks or horror that she was having to _pay_ for her _education_. It made her wonder just who was funding the Order, because upkeep on the Temple _could not_ be cheap and she really couldn't imagine the tight-fists in the senate forking over millions to an organisation that many of them didn't even like.

Turning her attention back to Anakin, she poked him in the shoulder, "Just be thankful that you never have to file your taxes," she informed him with a playful smirk.

He pulled a face that told her just how distasteful he found the idea, his whole face scrunching like he had just smelt something awful. She chuckled at his reaction, so quintessentially teenager.

It was then that the lift slowed to a smooth stop and the doors slid open with a soft _swish_. The two of them left the lift and stepped into yet another gargantuan stone hall. Isharia peered around with interest, craning her neck to get a look at the soaring vaulted ceiling. The stone this time was a softer creamy-grey with tiny quartz-mirrors scattered across its surface that lit up when the light hit. Being the inner part of the Temple, there were no windows, but somehow it was still unmistakeably light.

She turned to Anakin and raised an impressed eyebrow. He gave her a smug grin in reply, "Nice, isn't it?" he said, looking like the tooka that got the cream.

"I'll say," she replied, walking over to the nearest wall to get a closer look. She'd never been here before, this being the inner part of the Temple rather than the visitor's area or the Halls of Healing and adjacent labs, and the Temple never failed to impress.

Anakin joined her by the wall, "The Temple was built gradually," he said, adopting an informative tone he'd probably learnt from his teachers, "each level was built at a different time which is why the stone is usually different level to level and in different sections of the Temple."

She hummed in acknowledgement and placed her hand on the cool, flat surface of the wall and breathed deep, gradually extending her awareness carefully outward from where it had been shut up behind shields. It was clear now that Master Yoda knew she was trained, and she saw little reason to hide so fiercely in front of a Padawan like Anakin.

She swept her mind lightly across the stone, focusing intently and feeling it both in the Living and Cosmic Force. In the physical world, she could trace in her mind over the elegant lattice work of the molecules, feeling the almost intangible energy of the atomic bonds holding it all together. There was something almost magical about understanding the universe on such a scale, something miraculous about seeing how it all fit together.

In the metaphysical the stone practically _glowed,_ a shining, almost sentient presence created by the ancient imprint and shadows of those who had walked this hall. The intent and care of the those who cut, carved and placed the stone hidden underneath the fading lights of thousands of Jedi.

Her lips tilted up into a tiny smile as she slowly removed her hand from the wall and let it slip to her side. Only in the Jedi Temple could such majesty be found in mere granite.

She turned back to Anakin to find him looking at her with a strange expression on his youthful face; a quiet analysing caution in his bright eyes and an odd wariness hidden in the corner of his lips.

She sighed and ignored it, within a few hours he probably would've forgotten about this moment so she saw no reason to expand on her actions.

"Where to now then?" she asked, directing his mind away from her perusal of the Temple walls.

"Oh, right, yes," he startled slightly and then blinked as if to clear his head, "this way," he said, pointing off down the hall.

She nodded and started walking in the direction he had indicated, knowing that Anakin and his long legs would catch up. They walked together along the long stretch, side by side past sculptures and ancient wall carvings, there were very few Jedi about at the moment: just Anakin, an elderly humanoid with maroon skin and a handful of young Padawans of various species bustling to-and-fro.

"Question, my young friend," she asked about halfway down the hall, leaning her head slightly toward Anakin.

"Hmm?" he replied.

"How the kriff do you lot navigate this place?"

Anakin snorted with laughter, the sound echoing in the large space, he bit back a grin and shrugged, "You get used to it," he said, "the central part where we are is actually fairly simple," he brought his hands up to illustrate. "Look," he said pointing to a space in front of him, "the central spire is here and the four other spires are in these corners," he informed her, laying out the picture the air, "on _nearly_ every level there's a series of halls and passages that connect them in the shape of a box with a cross inside," he drew the shape in the air, "you can get pretty much anywhere you want off of those halls, it's only in the _really_ old parts at the bottom and the bits outside of the main areas where it gets confusing, and then you can always get a droid to show you the way," he ended with a nonchalant shrug.

"Huh," Isharia replied, forehead creasing in thought, "that's not actually that bad," she said, thinking on how crazy and convoluted the road system on Coruscant was in comparison.

"Yeah," Anakin agreed, "right now we're following the hall to the outer wall where we can take another lift down to the level we need; then it's just corridors," he told her and then he frowned, "hey, I never asked, but where are you from?" he asked, peering closely at her as he could divine the answer just by studying her.

"Alderaan," she answered easily without pause, repeating the lie she'd told a million times by now.

"Wow," Anakin replied, raising his eyes, "that's really different to Coruscant."

"Oh, you have no idea," she scoffed, giving him an indulgent side-eye as she mentally contrasted the untameable chaos of the Republic's capital world to the firmly regulated, rigid society of Brion. _'While they may both be pretty much just cities,'_ she thought, _'they might as well be parallel universes for all the similarities they hold.'_

"What's it like there?" Anakin asked curiously, "I've never been."

"Cold," Isharia stated matter-of-factly with a fond smile, the statement being true enough for both Alderaan and Brion, despite how different they were.

Anakin shuddered, as if the very thought of being cold repulsed him, "Won't be going there in a hurry then," he muttered decisively with a grimace.

Isharia chuckled and nudged him, "What, Mr Desert Planet afraid of a little cold?" she teased, watching with amusement as he scowled indignantly. She sighed and shook her head with a smile, "It's not that bad," she added, thinking again of Brion instead of her supposed home planet of Alderaan, "well the weather anyway," she amended with a grimace.

Anakin met her gaze quizzically, confusion in his eyes, "What, the people the problem then?" he asked, "I've met the senator for Alderaan, he's okay -if kinda stuck up."

' _Huh, his master must be well connected then for him to meet a Core Worlds senator,'_ she thought, trying to draw a mental picture of the Jedi whose rooms she was going to, _'someone talented from a prestigious teaching lineage no doubt.'_

Answering Anakin's question, Isharia exhaled unhappily, "It's less the people in general and more my grandmother," she confessed with a pained scowl.

"Your grandmother?"

"Mmhm," she confirmed, and then frowned, "who's the most disapproving, uptight, overly critical person you know?" she asked him.

"Master Windu," Anakin replied immediately, before abruptly flushing bright red and snapping his head to her, "don't tell anyone I said that," he begged, looking at her with wide eyes.

Isharia sniggered and thought back to the Korun Jedi's forbidding demeanour and intense scowl from earlier, in person he had reminded her a little of Dr Ashan; she could see how him and this fidgety, energetic boy wouldn't get along. "Don't worry, brat," she laughed, "I won't snitch on you," she said, watching as he visibly relaxed. "Anyway," she said, going back to their conversation, "for my grandmother, make Master Windu an old woman and then make him your master."

Anakin gave her a look of pure horror at that suggestion, looking for all the world as if she had told him that someone had just died, then closed his eyes and shuddered all over, "That, that sounds _awful,_ " he pronounced with comically high level of gravitas. His tone was so serious and solemn that she couldn't help but be concerned, perhaps the comparison to her grandmother was more apt that she would've liked.

She frowned at him, "You really don't like Master Windu, do you?" she asked, watching for his reaction.

He scowled something fierce, clenching his fists and turning away, "He's just so critical," Anakin professed after a moment, his Force presence flickering like a fiery halo, "he's always criticising me and it's so obvious he doesn't like me," he declared, the dancing flames of his Force presence growing more turbulent with his emotions, "and it's been like that since the beginning! I'm strong! I train! I'm better than almost anyone in my classes _and_ I'm more powerful! But for him and the Council it's like I can't do anything right!" he spat angrily, gesticulating furiously.

Isharia was startled by the amount of venom in Anakin's voice as he spoke and she placed a comforting hand on his arm, trying to calm him with her presence. While there was definitely a fair amount of arrogance and a misplaced sense of entitlement in his words, the sheer frustrated hopelessness in his voice was too raw for it to be based off of nothing. Once again she resisted the instinctive urge to twine her mind with his to soothe the sparking fires; she knew that while he hadn't sensed what she'd done with the walls, he would definitely feel an intrusion in his mind.

She scowled and wondered what the Force was playing at. There were too many uncanny similarities between herself and Anakin for this to all just be a giant coincidence: both of them were overly emotional, overly attached people who were looked down upon by their peers despite their advantages (him his astonishing connection to the Force, her her relation to the queen). She sighed and sent a brief prayer for guidance to the _Ilumin'ar,_ she was hardly qualified to be some teenager's emotional counsellor, if that's what it wanted, not when she'd barely sorted her own issues.

But she was getting carried away. _'This is ridiculous,'_ Isharia mentally scolded, _'I've been spending_ far _too much time around Jedi if I'm attributing things in my life to_ destiny _of all things,'_ she thought scathingly.

Destiny was not a Brionian belief, even those gifted with visions scoffed at the notion of some universal grand plan. Brionians believed that there were infinite possible paths for future; some were just more likely.

But that was neither here nor there.

She turned her attention back to the roiling furnace of anger, indignance and resentment that was Anakin and allowed herself to commiserate with him for a moment. "That does sound like my grandmother," she allowed, squeezing his arm lightly in sympathy, "it was always, ' _Isharia, compose yourself!'_ or, _'Are you even trying, girl!'_ or her all-time favourite, _'Your very existence brings shame to this family!'_ " she finished, imitating Savine Ashaki's cold, emotionless tones perfectly, right down to her harsh Brionian accent.

Anakin looked for a moment like he was going to argue that his problems were _different_ in the way that most young people did or that _she didn't understand,_ but something on her face must've told him that that was a bad idea and he just sighed, deflating completely.

She forged onwards, "The way I look at it in hindsight though is that she wasn't deliberately trying to be cruel, or really hated me like I thought when I was younger, she just didn't understand that what she was doing was wrong," _'At least I really, really hope so,'_ "at the end of the day, kid, life is what you make of it, regardless of people's opinions and expectations," she finished with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Inside she was grimacing. She was honestly the worst person in the galaxy to be giving life advice, and she couldn't help but cringe internally when she said the last part. _Stars_ , she'd completely shut down after her parents had died, spent the next ten years isolating herself and removing herself from her actions before running away from all her problems and then drowning herself in work to avoid thinking about it all. _Force_ she was a mess.

But her cheap HoloNet inspirational wisdom seemed to work for Anakin who gave her a begrudging but grateful look and uttered a resigned, "I suppose."

Relieved to have finished talking on the subject but resigning herself to making some discrete enquires about Anakin while she was working here, she gave his arm one last squeeze and dropped the matter.

They chatted about nothing in particular the rest of the way to Anakin's quarters. She quizzed him about what he was taught as a Padawan and contrasted it with her own Force education, while he asked her about her life on Coruscant and her medical training.

She was particularly fascinated by his description of his lightsaber lessons -which coincidently turned out to be his favourite topic of discussion besides mechanics apparently- so he was more than happy to go into elaborate detail on the specifics:

"-and so there's seven main lightsaber forms each with their own defining characteristics. My favourite is Form V, which is like Form III but more aggressive. It's all about strength, you see, you have to dominate your opponents with strong strikes while still using the defensive manoeuvres from Soresu-"

And…

"-Master used to use Ataru, which is the most acrobatic one, but it's weak in defence because all the flipping leaves openings. Now he uses Form III which is _all_ about defence, which in my opinion isn't _much_ better because it draws out a fight but it seems to work for him-"

And…

"-and so he used a _Jung_ spin to bring himself into an Outer ring defence block in Zone three because I was doing a Falling Avalanche strike, but then _get this_ , that was a feint and halfway through I did a _Jung ma_ and switched to a leg slash which in a real fight would have been a _cho mok_ and-"

…so on and so forth.

Isharia didn't mind, even if she barely understood a word of what he was saying. Lightsabers were a Jedi and Sith weapon: not one her people used. As weapons, lightsabers were too flashy for the Hunters, so while she was vaguely proficient in traditional swordplay, it was hardly her choice of weapon.

Anakin, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of it if his enthusiasm and wild hand gestures were anything to go by. At least she could sort of follow this subject, he'd tried to tell her about some droid he'd worked on but he'd lost her at 'integrated logic terminal' _(what?)_ and 'advanced quantum processing' _(was that even real?)_ and given up when he seen how glazed over her eyes had gotten.

She had returned with her own convoluted lectures on just how the electric current in a neuron is generated and an in-depth explanation on the major differences between the anatomy of human offshoot species and those that were just humanoid. It had been especially entertaining to watch as Anakin grew progressively more horrified when she'd begun to describe some of the dissections she'd done.

She gone easier on him after that and told him some of the wilder stories of her and Shayla's exploits over the years. She'd had to stop and wait for him to recover after she'd told him about the time Shayla had accidentally married her off to some old Anx in a bizarre cultural ritual they'd managed to stumble upon when they were younger. He'd been practically collapsed on the floor in hysterical laughter by the time she'd reached the end of the story; she'd had to stand and hiss at him to get control of himself while all the Jedi that walked past shot them looks of deep disapproval.

Eventually though they'd manged to get to Anakin's rooms.

The Master-Padawan quarters that Anakin shared with his master were on a long corridor filled with other Master-Padawan quarters: a dull, utilitarian place in stark contrast to the grandeur of the rest of the Temple. The walls were painted what she could only describe as 'what if austerity was a colour?' and the floor was a flat grey stone that was just _there_. There were no distinctive features or identifying characteristics, nothing to tell you that this was where people lived. She quietly reflected that even her building was more welcoming, and the designer there had gone out of his way to capture the very essence of monotony.

It was depressing, to be quite blunt, and all too fitting for an organisation that thought mediation was the best way to spend free time. She silently prayed that Anakin's rooms were nowhere near this boring, otherwise she would be dragging him to the nearest furniture shop to buy _something_ to liven the place up.

They came to a stop outside a nondescript beige door on the left-hand-side of the hall and she waited next to Anakin as he keyed in the code on the keypad with a fluidity that spoke of years of practise. The door slid open with a quiet hum and Anakin turned to her with a shrug, "Well, this is it," he said, stretching his arm out in indication for her to enter first.

She inclined her head in acknowledgement at the gesture and stepped forward with barely disguised curiosity. She had never seen where the Jedi lived before, only really had her years with the Hunters for reference -and they had all shared the same strictly uniform barracks- she was anxious to see how the Jedi compared.

Her first thought upon entering was ' _Wow, this is actually nice,'_ as she scanned her eyes across the new space. The door had opened onto a fairly spacious kitchen/diner/living area about twice the size of her own, complete with wide windows and privacy shutters peering out onto the skyline of the district.

The whole space was done in shades of beige and cream, which while bland, was offset by the definite signs of habitation dotted about the place: a bowl left out on the small table from breakfast, a meditation mat on the floor by the window, bits and pieces of droid scattered across every surface. It brought a lived-in warmth to the place that she couldn't help but smile at.

Anakin stepped in behind her and the door slid shut, "Take a seat," he offered, motioning towards a worn looking armchair decorated by an odd beaded cushion; she wondered what the story behind that was.

She took Anakin's invitation graciously and sat herself down, taking the time to more closely analyse her surroundings.

She'd often found that the places people lived told stories, ones that oftentimes even the inhabitants were unaware of, and had found it useful in the past to use a person's living space as a guide for interaction. As Isharia swept her gaze over every nook-and-cranny; she tried to paint a picture from what she saw.

There were two distinct personalities here, obvious if you knew where to look, an amalgamation of character traits stitched together across the room. There was a model starfighter carefully painted in streaks of red and orange perched next to an unassuming statuette of a Jedi meditating: an open holobook flickering through what looked like Tionese courtly customs next to tacked up blueprints of a droid: a drab Jedi robe flung casually over a chair and a neatly folded one sitting on it. There was the meditation mat by the window and a clean cup-and-saucer left by the sink to dry. That dirty bowl on the table and a datapad with the latest racing ranks on the plain coffee table in front of her.

It was fascinating.

Isharia could pick out the bits that were Anakin easily: anything colourful, messy and more meaningful than functional was probably his. He seemed the type to crave chaos and emotion, to need to surround a space with things that were undoubtedly _his_.

His master on the other hand came across as more of an ascetic. Everything that wasn't Anakin's was functional yet elegant, freed from higher meaning other than the purpose it served. The titles on holobooks were all non-fictional, the strange collection of shrubs near the window were meticulously trimmed, and even in the absence of _things_ the room itself was crisp, clean and well-maintained.

The harmonious intertwinement of two such different people brought a soft smile to her face, one that grew wider as she felt the layered complexity of two individual Force signatures swim peacefully in the air. It was that more than anything that made this place a home.

Though the was something oddly familiar about the second one.

"What tea do you want?" came Anakin's voice, drifting over to her from where he stood in the kitchen area, gazing thoughtfully into an opened cupboard.

Jolted out of her trance, she looked back at him and shrugged, "Anything really," she deferred, not wanting to impose on her host.

Anakin frowned and hummed thoughtfully before picking up a dull metal tin, "I'll make you my master's favourite," he decided, "it's the one I'm best at anyway."

Isharia made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and leant back into her seat.

There was something so very peaceful in the air here, similar yet different to the rest of the Temple. A serenity that was less cold, less forced, and altogether more _real_. It made her feel less awkward than she usually would have visiting someone's home for the first time, relaxed her guard a little and allowed her to enjoy the atmosphere.

In all honesty though, she was still riding the high of having her research accepted; there was a part of her that would be content to just lie down and melt into a pile of happy. After months on end of planning, preparing, preliminary studies and defending her idea to the naysayers she was so honest-to-Force _happy_ that the final hurdle had been cleared; if a rogue speeder were to crash through the window and kill her right now, she would die with a smile.

Behind her the bubbling sound of boiling water interrupted her musings as Anakin put the kettle on, a subtle, spiced scent filling the air as he unscrewed the lid of the tin. She breathed in deep, enjoying the warm, understated scent of the tea.

There was something universally comforting about the act of brewing and drinking tea, something endlessly reassuring about the unmistakeable flavour. Isharia's father had been something of a tea aficionado; when she was younger it had been his go-to method of comfort whenever she or her mother had been upset. Still today she closely associated all things tea with the pervading warmth of his presence, the feel of the spreading heat when she swallowed akin to the comfort of his hugs after a hard day.

She sat relaxed and quiet as she waited for Anakin to finish, her eyes watching the tiny figure of the flickering holobook as it demonstrated the proper way to bow to nobles on Tion. After another minute she heard the kettle go off and then the soft thuds of Anakin's footsteps as he made his way over to her with two cups of tea.

"There," he murmured, placing them both down on the coffee table and collapsing back onto the sofa in an artless sprawl.

Isharia gave him a pointed glance as she reached over to pick up her tea, "Is that how your master lets you treat the furniture?" she asked, eying where his feet were propped up with the sofa's arm over the rim of her cup.

Anakin shot her an incredulous look, "Force, you sounded just like him then," he told her, and paused when he saw how she was sitting, "you even look like him too," he said, eying the way she had unconsciously sat up and assumed a prim posture while holding her drink.

Isharia started and forced herself to relax, "Sorry, force of habit," she excused herself, suddenly conscious of her bearing. After her parents had died, tea had become an Event, one that she'd had to endure with her grandmother every week. With the queen, presentation was always of the utmost importance, one always had to look the part, which for her had meant a straight back and perfect poise whenever they'd come into contact.

"Whatever," Anakin replied with a shrug, "as long as you don't tell me to 'mind yourself, young Padawan,' we're good."

Isharia bit back a laugh at the overly exaggerated Coruscanti accent Anakin put on as he imitated his master, "Are you told that a lot then?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Anakin wrinkled his nose and stared up at the ceiling, "Enough," he said with a huff, scowling. He then paused to think something over, "occasionally it's deserved," he allowed, shrugging half-heartedly.

Isharia raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure," she replied, amused.

Anakin reached his long arms over to grab his tea and together they sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the drink.

It had a nice flavour, not one that she personally would have picked, but good all the same. It was subtly spiced, something that tasted a little like chai, and had an oddly bitter aftertaste that was unusual but not unpleasant.

"Where's this from?" she asked Anakin, raising her mug to indicate what she was talking about.

"The tea?" he answered, "hmm, some market we stopped at last year on a Colony World in the Mid Rim. They never said what's in it, but apparently it's meant to promote positive thinking."

Isharia smiled wryly, "Huh, I know several people who could benefit from that," she said, her thoughts drifting to Dr Ashan and some of the more frustrating members of the university faculty that she'd had to deal with it the past few weeks.

"Me too," Anakin agreed with a snort.

She was just about to ask who when the sound of the door sliding open behind her stopped her.

And then there was a presence.

If Anakin's Force presence was starfire and solar flares; this one was like the deepest ocean: hidden, unknowable and complex. It moved gracefully through the transcendental world of the Force, flowing and so calm it was almost still, a kind of peace to it, the comforting sound of waves hitting the shore.

It was a Jedi presence, that Isharia knew, it had the same tightly held control about it that all Jedi did, the same textural blandness and closed off feel. But there was something…different about this one, something almost Brionian in the rigidity of it, in the mirrorlike quality of its waters. A strange self-imposed peace and emotional bind akin in flavour to the iciness of her people; the crystalline mazes and walls behind which they locked their souls.

But this was not a Brionian, and therefore not a mind predisposed toward the extreme cauterisation of self in the way her people were; it contained water not ice and things were merely hidden not frozen and cut off. It made Isharia remember that old adage about still waters: made her curious, intrigued.

And there was something about it that she recognised, something achingly familiar and completely dear.

How… _strange_.

"Ah, Anakin," came a cultured voice, "I see we have a guest."

Isharia turned around to face the voice, guessing whoever it was was the owner of the presence too, and found herself wanted to put a face to both.

It was a man, human by the looks of him, with russet coloured hair and intelligent quicksilver eyes that flashed green under the light. He wasn't particularly tall for a human -although she was hardly one to judge on that front- but the broadness of his shoulders and well-balanced confidence of his stance spoke of a muscularity and athleticism common in younger Jedi.

She'd put him in his early thirties maybe, clearly in the prime of his life, with the first signs of the lines that would mark his face in years to come etching themselves into his skin.

He was dressed like most Jedi: drab beige robes and sensible well-worn boots. But there was an air of meticulousness about him, a neatness obvious in the precise folds of his tunic and the carefully groomed look of his beard (longish mop of hair notwithstanding). She easily linked it to the second occupant of the rooms.

' _This must be Anakin's Master,'_ she thought to herself with undisguised curiosity, _'younger than I expected,'_ and she looked him over with an analytical stare.

Anakin abruptly sat up straight and removed his feet from the sofa, "Master!" he cried, making a move to jump to his feet, "You're back!"

The man in the doorway arched one ginger eyebrow, "Well spotted, my young Padawan," he said dryly causing Anakin's face to flush bright red; Isharia couldn't help but snigger into her tea at that. Her amused snort caught the man's attention and he turned to look at her, "And who's this, Anakin?" he asked, watching her closely.

She couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome. His face had an appealing boyishness to it that she couldn't help but find endearing and his eyes a unique kind of cleverness that she found herself appreciating.

Behind her Anakin started, "Oh, right, yes," he fumbled, "this is Dr Isharia Ashaki," he said, gesturing to her with one hand, "Dr Ashaki, this is my Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Isharia placed her mug of tea down on the coffee table and rose smoothly to greet this new Jedi, stepping around the sofa and holding out her hand as she did. "Pleasure to meet you, Master Kenobi," she said with what she hoped was a welcoming smile.

"And you as well, Doctor," he replied, reaching out to take her hand.

As soon as he did, a spark ricocheted down her spine and her eyes widened. The indescribable familiarity and fondness that his Force presence evoked increased tenfold in her mind and a chill crept over her limbs. _'I know you,'_ she thought, startled, _'but how?'_

She had flashbacks then, to the first time she visited the Temple, all those years ago with Dr Ranil. When Anakin had run into her, there had been two other Jedi with him: a Master and a Padawan, a tall man with long, greying hair and a shorter one with quite the scowl and bright, grey eyes.

' _Ah-ha!'_ Isharia crowed with triumph, _'that's where I know you from!'_ she thought, _'Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of Qui Gon Jinn, the Jedi from the Naboo Crisis,'_ she gave him a discrete, but sly glance, _'the one with the cute blush.'_ But then she frowned internally, feeling as though she was missing something _'But this feels like more than that,'_ she thought with consternation.

Letting go of his hand and stepping away before this could become an awkward repeat of the last time they'd met, she let her smile widen, "Although this isn't the first time we've met," she said.

Master Kenobi's eyes widened and his brows furrowed as he tried to remember when they'd seen each other before. "Forgive me," he said after a moment, his expression becoming apologetic, "but I cant seem to recall when."

Isharia sighed at little internally. _Really? First Anakin then his Master, was she really so forgettable?_ But forged ahead nonetheless, "We met when Anakin first came to the Temple, you were there with your Master," she told him, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts, before a light flush crept up along his cheeks, "Ah, yes," he said sheepishly, "I remember now."

"Don't worry, Master," Anakin piped in, "she had to remind me too when we met in the speederpark earlier."

Master Kenobi's eyes drifted over to his Padawan then, "Really?" he said, "Ah, then a least I am not the only one." Looking back to her, he frowned pensively, studying her with those sharp eyes; she could almost see the cogs whirring behind them, "If I may, Doctor, what exactly are you doing here?" he asked.

It was Isharia's turn to blush then, remembering that she was essentially a stranger in this man's home, "Ah, well, I had a meeting with the Council and then Anakin invited me back for tea," she explained, hoping that he wasn't going to take offense and kick her out. He didn't seem the type, but you never know.

Master Kenobi's brows raised in clear surprise and he looked at her quizzically, "A meeting with the Council you say? About what?" he asked.

"Dr Ashaki's starting a study here soon," Anakin answered for her, "she's gonna be researching Force sensitivity and brain development."

Master Kenobi's eyes lit up from within with that familiar glow of academic excitement, "Really?" he exclaimed, "Fascinating!"

' _Ah,'_ she thought with satisfaction, _'a fellow knowledge seeker,'_ andMaster Kenobi's esteem multiplied in her eyes, she always appreciated other academics.

"That's what I thought," she replied with a shrug, "I'm doing it for my doctoral study, I figured it was about time someone researched it."

Master Kenobi pursed his lips in thought and reached up to stroke his beard, staring off into the middle distance, "Indeed," he said, "there are few -if any- papers in the Archives about the physical effects of Force sensitivity. I tried to do some research on it when I first took on Anakin," he informed her with a slight frown, "there was woefully little."

"You did?" Anakin asked, shocked.

"Hmm," Master Kenobi hummed in affirmation, "you have such a strong connection to the Force, Anakin, that I wondered if it would have any effect on you growing up," he said, and glanced over to his Padawan, "add to that you grew up away from the Order, I thought it prudent to see if there was any way I should adapt your training to compensate."

"Huh," Anakin said, looking a little nonplussed, "I didn't know you did that."

Master Kenobi raised one eyebrow, "Yes, well, there are a lot of things you don't seem to know I do, my young Padawan," he commented archly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

There seemed to be greater meaning in that sentence for Anakin than there was for her because the boy scowled, his features tightening in indignation whilst Master Kenobi's strangely protean eyes glittered with fond amusement and his beard hid the twitch of his lips.

Isharia grinned to herself watching them, they had such an interesting dynamic; she could easily picture them inhabiting this space. Their unique Force presences danced around each other harmoniously: water and fire, serenity and emotion, the controlled and the irrepressible.

' _Balance,'_ she thought to herself almost giddily.

After watching his moody Padawan with affectionate exasperation a few seconds longer, Master Kenobi turned back to her, a new sort of respect on his face even as he peered contemplatively at hers, "If I may," he began hesitantly, "aren't you a little young for such a comprehensive study?"

Isharia's mood plummeted. _'Oh for the love of-!'_ she cursed, _'Not this again!'_ She was altogether fed up of having this debate with people; rather than the sanctity of Jedi training methods, this was the main complaint the university had thrown her way. At only twenty-five, wasn't she a little young to be doing something so ambitious? Wasn't she a little inexperienced to conduct a study so ground-breaking?

To which she happily said _kriff you_ and age is just a number and she'd been doing far more strenuous things with the Hunters at a much younger age, thank you very much.

But of course, Isharia couldn't say that, so had instead settled for presenting her impeccable academic record, squeaky-clean references from both Dr Ranil _and Dr Ashan_ and almost faultless handling of Dr Ranil's research team after he had run off to the Outer Rim. All of which had countered any rational arguments the university could present.

' _And_ _honestly,'_ she glowered, running her eyes over Master Kenobi's youthful features, _'he can't talk. Anakin must've been what? Nine? Ten? When I met him at the Temple, and he couldn't have been older than twenty-six which means he was barely more than a Padawan himself when he apprenticed Anakin,'_ she thought sourly.

In reply she raised an eyebrow of her own and retorted lightly, "Aren't you a little young to have a sixteen-year-old Padawan?"

Master Kenobi looked down guiltily, "Ah, yes, I suppose I deserved that," he said, reaching up again to tug at his beard.

Watching them, Anakin scowled, "Master Obi-Wan may be young," he said defensively, crossing his arms, "but he's one of the best Jedi in the Order," he proclaimed righteously.

Master Kenobi looked at his Padawan with exasperation written across his face, "Really, Anakin?" he said tiredly.

"Well it's true," Anakin said mulishly, blue eyes fierce as he glared at them both, "you're the first Jedi to kill a Sith in a thousand years."

Wait

 _What!?_

" _What!?"_ Isharia hissed furiously, feeling as though the planet had just disappeared beneath her feet.

The two Jedi whipped their heads around to stare at her wide-eyed, shocked at her violent reaction, but Isharia was past caring or noticing, inside her mind was reeling.

The _Sith?_ _The_ Sith? By the Force, by the Balance, by the twice-damned blood of the Celestials! They were supposed to be _extinct!_ Exterminated by their own selfishness and stupidity at Russan! Ridding the galaxy of their filthy, treacherous, _li'kan-ashaki_ ideology; purging the universe of their tainted blood and unrestrained chaos.

Fury, cold and instinctual bubbled up inside her, held back by sheer force of will alone. She wanted to bare her teeth and snarl, stretch out her full potential in the Force and _tear something to shreds._ It climbed up inside her icy and hard and unforgiving: more elemental than the carefully monitored apathetic anger she carried during her tenure with the Hunters, something blinding and primal.

How had they survived!? How had they lived when _billions_ of her people had _starved_ and _screamed_ and _froze_ as a result of their actions!?

By the Force she wanted to hit something, to pull out her old Hunter gear and _hunt the wretches down._

How had her people not sensed this? How had they not known? It seemed almost incomprehensible that the Sith had managed to hide for a millennium from the eyes of Brion, when in the days just after Russan, the combined might of the entire Brionian Force network had scanned the galaxy as one, searching for even a sign of the Sith.

It took all her training, all her mental discipline not to show her emotions on her face, have it reflected through the Force. Every ounce of Brionian restraint she possessed to school her features into placid neutrality and meet the curious eyes of Anakin and Master Kenobi.

Luckily they were no longer looking at her but at each other.

"Anakin!" Master Kenobi exclaimed, sounding at little horrified, "That was information to be kept within the Order _only,"_ he cried.

Anakin grimaced and tugged his braid awkwardly, "Oh, yeah, sorry," he apologised sheepishly, not quite looking his Master in the eye. Master Kenobi's scowl was fierce and intimidating and he looked on the verge of a rather angry lecture.

But as much as Isharia wanted to interrupt them to ask questions, or excuse her reaction, she didn't, because the Sith,

The Sith had returned.


	9. Brion II

**By the Light of the Dying Star**

Brion II

 **A/N: So this is about the longest chapter I've written, apologies if it feels all expositiony. Thanks for favs/follows/reviews as always, they're always appreciated. I got a little too into the zone when I wrote this so I was super impatient to publish, sorry if there's loads of mistakes. As per usual I check my own work, there will be errors, yada yada yaya. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine**

* * *

 _It's your seventh Liberation Day when you first experience the true power of the Force._

 _As is customary, your family has been invited to observe Liberation Day at the palace. It's only day of the year where the palace empties completely of all staff and courtiers, leaving only the royal family inside._

 _Your family has been given a suite of rooms high up on the south side of the palace. The rooms are lavishly decorated and fitted with all the latest technology and, unlike the rest of the palace, are bright and airy with large panoramic windows and clean white walls. The ceilings are high and bleached; lit by hundreds of tiny lights arranged in the shapes of famous constellations while violet plasma arcs and spirals through the marble floors. Running alongside the windows, small indoor streams of sweet smelling water gurgle gaily in the amber sunset while holographic fish swim between fountains. The furniture is almost priceless, glossy, black-lacquered wood hand-carved into the minimalistic designs Brionians favour; rare and precious due to both the lack of forests anywhere on Brion and the absence of interplanetary trade._

 _The view from the windows is spectacular, the palace itself is a two mile high masterpiece of gleaming durasteel and clari-crystalline; it contains everything from government offices to the private homes and public areas of the royal residence. Your family's suites are in the top mile of the structure, offering a stunning vista of both Sing'dai and the summer sunset as it throws rays of liquid gold over the city._

 _You are sat by the window trying to meditate, relaxed by the sounds of the water behind you and the warmth of the dying sun on your skin. You can feel the flickering lights of millions of people slowly filling the vast open space that surrounds the palace on all sides in preparation for the Oneness. Their steady presences light up the Force for spiritual miles in a wall of luminescence, glowing brighter than a star to your senses. In your peripheral, the cord tying you to the sad man stretches off into the cosmic wilderness of temporal space while the golden braids of your parents resonate with proximity._

 _A lot has changed in the past year. The academy has taught you so much yet so little at the same time. You can now consciously open yourself to the Force, feel the energy of the universe swirl around you in indecipherable patterns, resonating and connecting with every life in the universe. You've even begun to learn to let it guide you, lead your mind and direct your actions; to exert your will over it, changing reality around you. It's so grand and beautiful that you feel as though you could get lost in its ever-changing waters._

 _However, at the same time, all your first worries about your new peers have turned out to be completely accurate. You've become the class outsider, no one paying you more attention than a passing glance and turning away all your attempts at friendship with a blank look. The teachers only give the minimum thought required to teach you and the older students actively stay away. It's as if you have some sort of contagious disease that they're all desperate to avoid._

 _You can't help the curl of dark feeling that thought gives you, creeping thick and heavy over your soul. The negative emotions seep into your meditative trance briefly, clawing with spindly figures, disrupting your balance._

 _You take a deep breath in and examine the bitterness fully before accepting the feeling and letting it slip away._

 _The balance returns._

 _Over the past few months the sad man has become invaluable to you, his melancholy presence a constant companion and sounding board for your fears and frustrations. He's become your only friend, an unknowing confidante that makes putting up with your classmates just a little easier. You are almost continuously feeding your emotions down the link, your thoughts and innermost feelings too. The sad man has become a clandestine companion that you really couldn't do without._

 _This makes you determined –and certain- that one day you will repay the favour, that one day you will leave this barren,_ Illumin'ar _forsaken rock and find him. It has become one of your fiercest and most carefully guarded dreams to finally meet him and make him smile, a secret that warms you when the reality of your day-to-day existence feels cold._

 _It will be difficult, you know, as not only are there trillions upon trillions of sentients in your galaxy alone, but also because no one_ ever _leaves Brion. There is one spaceport on the entire planet and travel from it is heavily restricted, permission from your grandmother is needed just to_ enter _. The facility is under twenty-four hour Hunter guard and that's not to mention all the shielding and alarmed traps that pepper the complex. You learnt this when you asked one of your teachers about travelling the stars; she had looked at you as if you were particularly stupid before listing all the various ways it would be impossible._

 _You can feel the tranquillity of your meditation fade as you start to become aware of a persistent itch on the tip of your nose and the discomfort in your tailbone from sitting still so long. Although you have been doing this for a year now, you are still too young to maintain such stillness for long. It takes you ten minutes of fidgeting and distractions before you can attain the correct mind-set, and you can only hold it for about half an hour before the restlessness contained in your small body sets in again._

 _You open your eyes to the fiery orange of the sunset reflected off of the shined skytowers, momentarily admiring the sight before flopping back to the floor with a heavy sigh. You lie there staring at the ceiling frowning, frustrated at yourself for not lasting longer meditating. You stretch out your limbs so you're are lying spread eagled on the ground before heaving another great sigh._

" _That's a large sigh for such a small person," comes Daddy's voice as he strolls over toward where you lie. He comes to a stop right next to you and leans over to peer down at your face, "Wanna tell me about it?"_

 _You scowl back up at him, taking in his relaxed countenance and the casual tousles of his hair, un-styled for once. "It's meditation," you moan, "I can only do it for half an hour before_ something _itches and I have to start all over again!" You clench your fists in pure annoyance and turn your head to the side, "It's not fair! Myako can sit and do it for_ ages _without moving! And she always gives me this_ look _afterwards! She's just_ mean _!" You stomp your legs on the floor in anger, "Why can't I do it!"_

 _Daddy chuckles quietly at your frustration, his shoulders shaking slightly with humour._

" _It's not funny!"_

 _He stops laughing and quirks an eyebrow at you, "Did I say it was?" He sighs quietly and lowers himself to sit next to you on the ground. You heave yourself upright in a mess of white curls and stretch your legs out in front of you before leaning into Daddy. He stares at the sunset with a smile on his face, the light painting his pale skin and hair gold. "Unfortunately I can't help you with your Force magic-"_

" _It's not magic! It's a semi-sentient energy!" calls Mummy from the dressing room._

 _You giggle as Daddy rolls his eyes and adopts a put-upon expression, "Unfortunately I can't help you with your_ semi-sentient energy _," he says, emphasising the words, "but what I can tell you is that everyone learns at a different pace. Just because Myako is good at meditation, doesn't mean she'll be good at everything else. They'll be areas in which you'll excel and she'll feel jealous-"_

" _As if she has feelings."_

" _-and you'll have to be grown up enough not to lord it over her. The point is, these things happen when you're learning anything, not just the Force."_

" _Half of the other stuff we learn is useless anyway, when am I ever gonna need to write in ancient Balthur? I bet the only person who uses it is Grandmother! Aurabesh works_ fine _," you whine with a vaguely disgusted look on your face._

 _Daddy turns to face you and raises both eyebrows in a disbelieving expression, "So it's no longer sensible to be able read and write in a language you can speak? Because I know you're fluent in Balthur, your mother and I taught you and you spent weeks refusing to speak in Basic."_

 _You feel your face begin to heat up as the blood in your cheeks lights you up like a cherry. You duck your head in embarrassment, letting your hair fall over your shoulders to cover your blush. "Yeah well, that's only because Balthur has some really pretty words –and it sounds nice," you mumble sullenly before twisting back towards Daddy, "But the writing is the opposite! It's got like, thirty_ thousand _letters! Who needs thirty thousand letters? And they all have lotsa meanings and sounds too!" You wave your arms around for emphasis and your voice gets increasingly passionate as you get into your spiel, "And the letters are all_ really _hard to draw, they're all just weird squiggly lines and Miss Isai is always "No, Isharia, you're doing it_ wrong. _That's the character for water not the one for sound," as if I don't know that!" you end with a huff, burying your face into Daddy's shoulder while he tries to contain his amusement at your antics._

" _Well if you don't like Balthur and you don't like meditation, what do you like?"_

" _Science," you answer, your voice muffled by the skin of his arm._

" _Really?" Daddy answers interested, "When I was younger I always liked History best."_

 _You look up at him from where your head still rests on his arm, fascinated because you never knew this about him and new information about your parents is always treasured. "You did? We haven't even_ started _History yet."_

" _Mm hm," he hums in confirmation, "I loved all the stories and the action involved." He lays a hand on your head and begins idly twisting the curls of your hair around his fingers, "Take today for example, do you know why we celebrate Liberation Day?" he asks, stroking your hair like an um'leki._

 _You frown, your nose scrunching up as you think, "Not really?" you say, you know it's an important celebration, but you're not sure why._

" _Well," Daddy begins, looking out across the glowing skyline, "it's to celebrate liberation," he says with a wry smile. "You see, kiddo, many, many thousands of years ago there were the Balthurians -our predecessors, our ancestors- a humanoid species with skin so pale it was translucent and large, blank white eyes that glowed like plasma. They were the native species, a powerful, Force sensitive bunch with minds so interconnected they were almost one being."_

 _You sigh and scowl impatiently up at Daddy, you already_ know this, _every Brionian child does -it would be embarrassing if you didn't. Brionians are a hybrid sub-species, a mixture of two compatible humanoid peoples: humans and Balthurians, it's one of the first things you learnt in school._

" _What does this have to do with Liberation Day, Daddy?" you prod petulantly, willing him to continue with the story._

 _He huffs under his breath and tugs at a lock of your hair sharply in reprimand, causing you to flinch and glower at him. You poke him hard in the side in retaliation and giggle as he yelps and fuzzes up your hair. "Hold on, I'm getting there," he grumbles good-naturedly, then he sighs and runs a hand through his own hair, "where was I? Oh yes, the Balthurians."_

" _The Balthurian's innate Fore sensitivity and the strength of Brion in the Force made them a target for others who wished to exploit it, who wanted to use that strength to augment their own. One such people were the Rakata."_

" _The who?" you ask, the name sounding vaguely familiar: a distant, dissonant echo that rings with foreboding; you can't help but shiver._

" _The Rakata," Daddy repeats solemnly, "another species. Empire builders and slaveowners, the power behind the first true galactic regime: the Infinite Empire. They were a monstrous people, consumed by greed and bloodlust; powering their technology off of corrupted_ Ishk'ar _and ravaging the worlds they came across._

" _They found Brion -or their slaves did- and saw the peaceful, Force sensitive Balthurians as ripe for the taking. Our ancestors never stood a chance," he shakes his head and his eyes fill with an ancient sorrow, "the Balthurians were beaten, cowed and enslaved. Their world was raped, their minds violated and their society torn to shreds. The brutality of it all drove the entire species to extinction, survived only by their hybrid offspring with the other slave species on the planet: humans."_

 _You gasp and your eyes widen, "So that's where Brionians come from!" you exclaim excitedly._

 _Daddy smiles and meets your eyes, identical black irises peering into each other, "Indeed," he confirms, "the humans couldn't last long under the gravity of Brion but some of their children managed to inherit the Balthurian bone structure and here we are, thousands of years later."_

" _That's amazing," you breathe and lift your hand to examine the fine bones of your fingers, painted gold in the sunset. There's a new appreciation for them now, a new awe for the dense, heavy marrow of your skeleton, the unreal delicacy of its structure. You wonder just how many hybrid children perished before the right mix of human and Balthurian was found._

 _You tilt your head back to your daddy in an almost birdlike manner, he still hasn't told you how this relates to Liberation Day, "You still haven't gotten to the point yet," you say deliberately._

 _Daddy raises a brow, "Patience, little madam," he chides, "I'm almost there." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you tight into his side; you take it as an invitation to snuggle into him, pressing your head to his arm and wrapping your own arms around his middle. "Liberation Day," he begins, the murmur of his voice vibrating through your shared contact, "is the celebration of the last of the Rakata leaving Brion, of the Infinite Empire's collapse. No one knows why it failed, only that it did, and no one knows what happened to the Rakata, they haven't been seen since. All we know is that they left and that all those who were enslaved became free: that's Liberation Day, the celebration of becoming free," he finishes._

" _So Brionians started out as slave children?" you question quietly._

" _Mmhm," Daddy hums in confirmation and then asks, seemingly without cause, "what's our surname?"_

 _Your brows furrow in confusion, what does that have to do with anything? "Ashaki?" you say, not understanding the relevance._

" _Hm, and what does Ashaki mean in Balthur?"_

 _You gasp in comprehension, "Bound," you breathe, tightening your arms around your Daddy._

" _Indeed," he says absently, his eyes stare unseeing over the skyline of Sing'dai. "The Balthurians had no words to describe slavery when the Rakata came to Brion, no language to explain the state in which they found themselves -they never had slaves, you see- so when they found themselves beholden to alien masters, they used the words they already had. Ashaki, from_ ashak'ion _: to bind, came to mean slave."_

 _You let this new information wash over you for a moment, the terrible origins of your own people, born atop the blood and bones of their Balthurian ancestors. It is an awful truth to be sure, but something doesn't make sense. Ashaki is the name of the_ royal _house: your grandmother's name, your mother's name; your father was a Shaska before your parent's marriage, why would the royal house be the house of slaves?_

 _You purse your small lips in thought, the Rakata must've been_ ages _ago, so it couldn't be a hold-over from them, Liberation Day is the most ancient of Brionian festivals after all -it's older than the city even- so why..?_

" _Daddy," you start, going slowly as you try to put your thoughts into words, "why…I mean, if it's been so long…why, why are we still Ashaki?"_

" _Why do the royal family carry a name that means slave, you mean?"_

" _Well, yeah."_

" _Ah, now that, that comes from later," Daddy answers with a humourless snort and shake of his head, "that comes from our second period of enslavement."_

" _Second..?" you ask, trying to figure out why you've never heard of any of this before, it seems important._

" _Yes, second," he pauses and his face contorts, his black eyes becoming deep and fathomless as they fill with anger, "to the Sith," he hisses._

 _Stunned by the pure venom in his voice you shrink back slightly, "Who are the Sith?"_

" _The Sith are some of the galaxy's most monstrous beings," comes from behind you. You whip your head around to see Mummy come walking in from the dressing room, her steps light, graceful and perfectly controlled, the mark of a trained Force sensitive. "Mind if I join you?" she asks with a tilt of her head._

" _No, you're quite welcome to," Daddy replies with a sweep of his arm to indicate the space next to you._

 _Mummy comes and elegantly sinks to the floor beside you, folding her long legs beneath her. She turns to face you with the same dark expression as Daddy, her white eyes looking more like Grandmother's than you've ever seen them before. "The Sith," she begins, her voice pure acid, "are like the Rakata, an order of abominations that only use the most corrupted parts of the Force, be they_ Ishk'ar _or_ Kim'ar _."_

 _You take in your mummy's face with shock, you've never heard her speak with such_ hate _before, it's astonishing really. Through your bonds with both your parents you can feel the anger that radiates off their forms: Daddy's still, ancient loathing and Mummy's daggered, viper rage._

 _The Force crackles and spits around your mummy, filling the air with the slight tang of the_ Ishk'ar _, subtle and controlled._

 _It tastes like blood: copper and rich._

 _Mummy sighs though, a tired, pained sound, fit for someone much older and says, "But that's a story for another time."_

 _You open your mouth to protest, you_ really _want to hear the next part now, especially since it provoked such angry reactions from both your parents. But Mummy raises one pale hand and stops you in your tracks, "No buts," she says, in a tone of voice that says arguing would be foolish, "it's not a happy story and today is a day for celebration, not sadness."_

 _Daddy makes a noise of agreement from next to you and sends a small smile your way, "Listen to your mother, princess," he encourages, "this is your first Oneness after all!"_

 _Your curiosity about the Sith and your name immediately evaporates as you are reminded why you have been looking forward to this day for_ months _._

 _The Oneness, the most sacred of all Brionian ceremonies, the pinnacle of your people's connection to the Force, and you're finally old enough to participate this year! You can barely contain your excitement, you almost wriggle in place with the sheer force of it and your face splits into a huge, toothy grin._

 _Mummy laughs at your obvious glee and gives you a fond smile, full lips curving softly, "I remember my first Oneness," she says, "I spent the entire day driving your grandmother crazy, in the end she locked me in my rooms," she shakes her head in remembrance, "not that it made a difference," she adds slyly, "I still got out."_

 _Daddy sniggers, "Good to know the queen hasn't changed," he says, eyes twinkling, "her majesty has always been disagreeable."_

 _Mummy scowls without heat and reaches over to swat his shoulder reprovingly, "Hush, you," she chides._

" _Oh, come off it, Elyssi," he huffs playfully, "you know your mother's a piece of work!"_

 _You giggle guiltily at this, half expecting your grandmother to pop out of the walls to glare at Daddy, and watch as Mummy fights back a smile, attempting to look disapproving but failing spectacularly. She gives up with a sigh and says, "I know, but still, she is your queen."_

 _He snorts, "As if I could forget when she takes every opportunity to remind me of my 'unworthiness.'"_

 _Mummy gives him an exasperated side-eye, "Really, Devron? You should know by now to ignore her comments,_ I'm _the only one that has to find you 'worthy.'"_

" _And for that I am eternally grateful," Daddy replies as he leans over your head to give Mummy a kiss. She accepts willingly and her pale cheeks tinge a becoming peach with pleasure._

 _Through the Force you can feel the sweetness of their love for one another, an endless and mutual blue-skies-and-everbloom that sings mellifluous arias through your bonds. It brightens the world around you, makes everything feel iridescent and bright._

 _You bask in the reflected luminosity of it, revel as the second-hand brilliance sweeps through your part of the triumvirate. You feel warm and safe and so very infinitely_ loved _, as though you have been bathed in the sunlight_ _of a new dawn._

 _This, you think, is what it is_ supposed _to be like, and you close your eyes to enjoy the warmth. This deep and precious well of comfort and peace and togetherness. You think of your classmates, your peers by all definitions, and the cold closedness of their eyes, the way they silently judge you without knowing. You think of the way the rest of Brion feels in your mind, now that you have the capability to perceive the strands that link you all together. The cold crystals, the rigid, diamond-hard structure of the network that you are all a part of._

 _It is a cold thing, the Brionian collective conscious, sharp and defined and unforgiving; billions of minds arranged like the atoms in a Force crystal._

 _You instinctively sense the rightness of your place within it, the unique slot fitting your mind and no other, but sometimes, sometimes, you also feel the difference between you and them: you family and the others. There is a freedom to your family's minds that is rarely present in the rest of the network, a sense of the_ Ishk'ar _that seems missing in most, an emotional expression not locked down tight behind walls of ice._

 _It is this, you realised fairly recently, that makes you different and barely tolerated. This peculiarity of your mind that sets you apart._

 _Your people are a controlled people: rigid and inflexible as the ice of your world. A society of logic and little else, of enforced apathy and passionless beauty. A society that in its uniformity, has learned to abhor deviation from the norm._

 _But it is as if your parents -and a tiny few others- decided at some point that they would be different: think different, experience life and the Force differently, and they have taught you to do the same. Sometimes, you in your naivety and youth, cannot decide whether to be grateful or resent them for it. The dead eyes of your peers unnerve you, the glacial distain of your grandmother's frighten you, but then you feel the love your parents share and you cannot imagine anything else._

 _You are determined to have something like it one day, no matter how far you must look. A Brionian marriage bond that fulfils its original purpose, a deep and sacred connection with another full of safety and warmth._

 _Your parents lean away from each other and the sensation dissipates to the usual low-level affection. You open your eyes again and look up; the sun has nearly set and the millions of minds in the square below hum with what among Brionians passes for anticipation. You let it fill you up as your own giddy nervousness joins the chorus._

" _It's almost time," Mummy murmurs, her eyes distant as she opens herself to the Force._

 _Daddy's eyes flutter shut and his breathes in deep, "Mm, I can feel it. The one day a year where I can truly touch the Force."_

" _We need to go to the Temple," Mummy says, rising to her feet and offering and hand out to you to pull you up also, you take it and let her assist you to your feet._

 _You are so excited, your heart flutters giddily in your chest and your stomach buzzes with anticipation. This is the most sacred day of the year, the holiest part of Brionian life, a celebration of both your people's connection to the Force and the ancestors. You rock backwards and forwards on your heels, thrumming with energy and eagerness; you want to drag your parents down to the Temple, to pull them through the halls, but you know you shouldn't. This is a solemn and blessed ceremony that cannot be rushed._

 _Daddy stands up by your side and offers you his other hand and the three of you stand there for a moment, holding hands, a tableau illuminated by the setting sun._

 _Mummy takes the opportunity to dive into your family bonds. In the metaphysical you can feel it as she pulls the threads closer together, the ethereal non-space between your minds shrinking as you become more and more intertwined. You can't help the awestruck gasp that leaves you as you become less and less three separate beings and begin to condense into one. It is by far the oddest sensation of your life. Your mummy's warm contentment becomes your own, as does your daddy's fluid serenity._

 _It is wonderous, together your potential far outstrips who you were apart, and as your awareness's combine, the thrumming down below gets louder and more distinct until you could pick out each individual should you try._

 _You glance up at Mummy with wide eyes, she looks back indulgently, her white eyes knowing, "For the ceremony," she tells you firmly, "and only for the ceremony."_

 _You nod, too overwhelmed to really reply as your mind tries to sort through the immense but somehow natural feeling of being one part of a larger whole. Daddy, sensing the feeling as if it were his own, squeezes your hand in reassurance from your other side._

 _Without any real thought, merely a shared notion occurring simultaneously across three minds, you begin to move. You walk, perfectly in sync, out of the suite and into the halls of the palace. Your movements perfectly match, every step the same length between the three of you, every twitch of muscle in eerie harmony._

 _You see the palace as you've never seen it before, it glows with half-thought memories and reminiscence from the part of the unit which is your mummy. Insubstantial visions of the past as her mind sees the places she walked growing up. From daddy is grim toleration, a sense of unwillingness and high, stark walls of obsidian: unfriendly, unwilling. You know from you comes a fear, a unnerved cold and isolation, a weight, a pressure, an awe hidden beneath layers of agitation and excitement._

 _These three unique impression of the palace swirl together and coalesce into a glowing interpretation that spreads across your combined conscious: a perfectly formed patchwork of history and emotion that you all share. You cannot lie within the link._

 _The three of your wander the minimalist, grand halls with their swirling plasma in the odd circuitous route that you know will take you to the central turbolift of the palace, and from there, to the Temple._

 _The thought of the Temple from you provokes a flurry of impressions and sensations across the shared mindspace. You get a sense of profound_ age _, of time and grandeur, of ancient lost worlds and power deep and immovable. Flashes of black walls towering and glowing runes that burn like stars._

 _You have never been to the Temple, the ancient structure that sits beneath the palace. You know it is the oldest structure on Brion; you know it was once Balthurian before Brionian, but beyond that you know nothing._

 _Mummy and Daddy go every year for the Oneness, as members of the royal house they are among the few that ever get to see the inside, and now that you are old enough, you will too._

 _The three of you board the turbolift at the exact same moment, down to the millisecond, in unity as you are, and a shared sense of serene excitement spreads evenly between you. If it were just you within your mind, you would have jolted when the lift abruptly shoots down, but with your mummy and daddy there as indistinguishable parts of your conscious, you stand unnaturally still and calm._

 _Around you the Force dances and peaks with expectancy, the four billion minds across Brion lacing tighter together in preparation for the ceremony. They are like billions of tiny lodestones, pulling together to find the anchor that is north: magnetic and dragged in by a compulsion that is almost a force of nature. You can feel it all, your perception widened by Mummy and Daddy's mind, their greater knowledge granting you a clarity of understanding you would lack on your own. The eddies and currents twirl before you beyond mundane senses, beautiful and riveting and stretching off into eternity._

 _At the edge of the one-in-three that you are in this moment, the Sad Man flickers and glows, closer than ever with your powers expanded. For some reason, although you and your parents are one mind in this moment, they cannot feel him: his anguish is yours and yours alone._

 _The sadness is crushing, the loneliness deeper and more soul-destroying than before now that you are closer. The impression of him grows, the undeniable masculinity of his presence within the Force and the sense of his mind, similar yet so very different to yours. There is dryness on your tongue, wrathful winds that rip at your skin and the spiritual waves of a turbulent, thrashing ocean that feels like it is made of unshed tears and regrets._

 _You try to reach out with your greater power, but still you cannot touch. An impassable barrier sits between you and him, not within the Force -for the Force is all things everywhere at once- but within the dimensions of your own comprehension. He is somewhere distant to your own experience of reality._

 _You understand with Mummy's experience of such things and Daddy's intuitive genius that to reach further would be futile, until you can expand beyond the flesh you are there is no way to him. But you wonder for the nth time why you are bound like this, what draws your souls together?_

 _Your thoughts on this matter silence though as the lift grinds to a gentle stop and the doors slide slowly open. In front of you are stairs, hundreds of them, spiralling downwards in a vortex of onyx stone, threaded with crystal shards that glitter in the odd lightness of this place. You feel no curiosity however, no fear or anxiety, for the other two of your link have done this before and their familiarity balances your lack of it._

 _As one you step from the lift and descend the stairs, down and down into the bowels of Brion, beneath the foundations of the city and the palace, back in time. The walls around you are smoothed black stone, the same as the stairs, the same as your grandmother's throne. They thrum with the Force, an ageless melody that sings on the edge of perception and reaches toward you with almost a kind of sentience._ What is that? _you wonder, a single individual thought escaping the triumvirate,_ Force crystals _, comes the whisper back, answering knowledge from your mummy and daddy's minds._

Forcecrystals, _your mind rings with awe and reverence,_ Force crystals, _the beating heart of Brion._

 _Eventually you reach the end of the staircase and what greets your eyes is the most wonderous sight you have ever seen._

 _The air is dry and cool and tasteless; there is a holy quietude that rings from the stone; power, the likes of which you have never felt, weighs heavy on your shoulders. The space, if this place could be described as such, is immense. It's but a singular room, but the circular space is so perfect in its shape it looks unreal, with walls that soar upwards for what feels like forever until they meet in a point._

 _The walls are made of that same black stone, studded with a million shimmering Force crystals that all but_ sing _in your mind, and the floor is its mirror. Together they are dark and endless; it's like you've stepped into the void of space itself: the crystals what you imagine the stars would look like, countless points of glowing white light._

 _It's almost impossible to tell where the floor ends and the walls begin, it all looks so deep and fathomless to you, an endless expanding darkness penetrated only by tiny sparks of illumination._

 _The floor is decorated: carved into it is a symbol you have never seen before. A circular motif, cut through the middle by a two waves with a single peak and trough, separating it into two halves that appear to be in the midst of merging together. Where the two waves cross in the very centre, there is another circle, a medallion, holding an almost floral image, and either side of the centre are two more smaller circles, in perfect alinement with each other._

 _There is something about the image that pulls at your mind: an ancient, primordial feeling of sanctity that echoes along your triumvirate, an inescapable rightness that flows out and grounds you._

 _But that is hardly the strangest thing about the design: all the way around it, both over and under the carving, are rows upon rows of script, delicate and swirling. Lines of flowing glyphs that all but writhe when you look at them, changing with each glance. You recognise it as Balthur, but not any type of Balthur,_ ancient _Balthur. The type of Balthur that is beyond illegible to all but the most dedicated of scholars, the type of Balthur used once by the Balthurians and the seers of the Sol'ari themselves._

 _It hurts to look it, pains your eyes and your mind to stare at it too long. From your mummy and daddy come different impressions of it, differing meanings and words and concepts that both mirror and contradict your own. You doubt there is anyone alive who can truly read it._

 _Your family are the last to arrive, both of Mummy's sisters are already there -along with your uncles and cousins- and Grandmother stands poised and still atop the middle circle. There is a strange calmness that flows through your bond, a sense of tranquillity and peace that settles across the three of you and stays the wandering of your mind. In unison, and seemingly without thought, you step together onto the circular motif and walk into the gap that has been left._

 _And then, as one, your entire family sit._

 _All of you are dressed in ceremonial robes, the men in white and the women black, with your feet bare and hair unbound. Your grandmother is the only exception; as queen she is to lead the ceremony, and so she stands, naked and pale, in the crystal-light._

 _The Force swells around you, racing toward a crescendo, a peak that you are all about to fall down. It pulls at you, a tug stronger than any you have felt before, and you feel on the cusp of something great and terrible._

 _You know, as your parents know, that it is almost time, and the odd stillness in your emotions builds._

 _And then, it begins._

 _Your grandmother stands at the apex, at some cosmic centre of great power that pulses and shines with the force of a thousand suns. You feel and almost see as she seizes that power, reaches out into the Force and pulls at it._

 _The runes and the circle beneath you light up, glowing brighter and brighter as the Force crystals reach out to amplify your grandmother. You cannot feel awed, all feelings are gone from you now, but there is a sense of grandeur to it that you comprehend even now._

 _The Force is everywhere, it presses down on you with real weight and makes the air soupy and distorted. The very threads of reality dance around you in the Temple, the heart of ever and never becomes a finite thing in this space. It is miraculous, it is glorious, it is beyond anything you've ever known._

 _In the Force your grandmother reaches out, and, much as your mummy did earlier, she weaves you together. Suddenly you are no longer one-in-three, but one-in-many as the rest of your family is added to the link. Your sense of self begins to dissolve around the edges, your very identity falling away at the seams as you become part of something more. You cannot feel panicked though, there is no fear, for there is almost no you left to feel it. You are not you, you are we and we are together and connected and infinite._

 _And then, we are not just twelve people in a room, we are hundreds and then thousands, millions and billions as all of Brion sings in the Force. We are everywhere, we are sat on the floor of the Temple, we are stood in the plaza staring up at the palace, we are in Tosvaka'dai and Yashin'dai and Xan'ko'dai and all across the world. We are one being with a billion eyes, one heart with a million bodies:_

 _One mind with a thousand voices._

 _And the feeling of it is indescribable, we lack a word that articulates the feeling of being all and one; there are so many sensations, so many interpretations and we are overwhelmed._

 _The Force binds us; it connects and penetrates us, and it is all around. We see it all so clearly now that we are one: the infinite distance of existence, the timeless time of the universe and the sparks and brilliance of life across all that is known._

 _The galaxy stretches out before us in all its incomprehensible glory: from the cluster of souls that glows blinding in the centre, to the fainter spread and individual nexus points that resonate in the Rim. We can feel the stars, feel the inferno in their hearts and the crash of atoms as they fuse. We can feel the planets and the asteroids, the black holes that greedily devour, and we steer clear from them, for we know that the abyss would never let us go if we fell in._

 _We feel the Balance, the harmony, the push and pull that makes up all of Now and Then and Later. The equivalence in the fundamental laws of nature; for every action has an equal and opposite reaction._

 _We see it all, feel every inch: from the baby that cries in its mother's arms on Ryloth to the man that dreams in fractured art on Csilla. It is open to us all._

 _But we know there is more, in the warp and weft of the fabric of the Force there are imprints, vibrations in the strings of the universe that echo those that came before, that are still there in different levels of reality. We cast ourselves into it, into the mess of time and space, backwards yet unmoving into frontier of what our mind can understand._

 _And the universe_

 _DISSOLVE_ _S_

-*8*-

We are B̷̨̘̬̙̣̘̯͎̥̟̈́̿̈́͊̌͑̎͠͠l̵̨͎̤̭͒̈́̀̓̂̎͜ư̶̭̻̠͕͕͈̟͙ȩ̶̰̻̺͚̋-̸̙͋̆̇̈̓̆̊s̸̨̘̝͇̗͛̉̈́̍͋̍̾̾͝k̶̼̜̟̦̇̅̈́͒͋̓̅̕͝i̶̡͖̘̳̿͜͝e̶̢̠̲̣͈̗̾̉̂̊͒͛s̸̞̞̥̟̠̖̬̜̔-̸̧̛͎̝͕̱̔͋͐̍͋͘ḩ̸̝̇͜ų̷̱̳̿̈͛͊͊̈́̄͘ņ̸͍̙̳̥̺́͋̍̄̍͜t̸͉̱̻͉͇͈͇͇̊̓̈́͘̕͠e̶̛̟͔͍̋̋̄̄̔͝͝ͅr̷̡̢̛̬̪̯͕̩̜̞͌̿͒̏͒̿̍-̶̛̤͛̃̾̏̽d̶̰̞̯̱̩̘̆̿͊̔̉̓̎̄ą̶̡̫̞͇̳̹̹̘́̈́̏̄̇̑̀ͅw̴̡͖̜̜̞̼̃͛̏̓̄̈̿n̵̢̟̹̗͚̱̩̖̩͂́̊̾ and we live on the southern banks of the river W̵̱̼͇͚̯̮͎̦̑i̷̲̦̙̮̊͑̀̏̾̏̔͂̽͝ń̵̡͙̥̰̲̺̩̪̞̩͌̉͋̈́̿̊̅̎̿ḓ̷̣̏̄̄̌̒̈́̽͘i̷̡̙̲̒͛̏͋͘̚n̴͉̽̇̕͝g̵̻̟͈̫͋̔̀͐̚͜͜-̴̡̖̥̤̩̰̙̞̘̀̆̈́̆͜d̵̢̛̙̥͍͓̦̤̙͍̅͂͆̂̋̌͑̈̕r̷̳̪̆͑̌̑́̄̄ă̸̖̗̝͖̪͉̯̤̆̈̅͗͗͛́͝g̸̳͛̄͐o̷͈͉̯̥̙̲̗͒͐̃̎̈́̾̐̄̚̕n̴̺̓́̆͘-̴̛͓̾̈́̒́̿͝͝d̵̬̼̙͖͚̲̗̓̓̔́̕͘ͅa̴̳̾̇̍̓̒̿ń̵̝̟̽͗̅c̶̨̛̩̤̥̰̯̟̓̇e̸̢̗̟̼͔̤̠͆̎͋ṡ̶̨̨̛̱̹͓̱͈̘̰̐̓̈́̓̅̐-̴̩̼̼̱͔̬̘͙̉̊ͅḃ̷͙̦̼̳̠̑̎̏̈́͆y̵̱͓̓-̵̛͍̈́̀̿̕ţ̷̫̘͓͓̳̠̳͇́̈̋͊̒̀̚͜h̵̹̯͐̆e̷̡̟̤̟͍̓͂́͂̑͝-̴͓̘͇͐͆m̷̡̲̲̻̠̾́̿͆̆͗͊̉̚͜ͅo̴̯̔͂́́o̴͇͓͉̳̬̔̊͑ń̵̛̛̥̖̖̅̒̑́̕͝s̸̢̢̨̛̝̱̝̘̙̹̈͂̿̐́̄̾ . The land is rich and bountiful, the skies a constant cerulean and the sun drips gold onto our fields: the harvest shall be good this year.

We stand from where we are kneeling by the boundaries of the uzime crops, disengaging our mind from the flow and beat of their simple souls. They are content and healthy for the moment, their presences a slow, uncomplicated drum sound amidst the intricate symphony of the Collective and the grander web of the planet. In the distance, through the roots, we feel the ancient soul of the lo'lingi tree, deep in the Heart Forest, pulling together the plant life of the province into its own collective.

We brush off our knees and pick the dirt from where it burrows under our nails, watching the blood move under the skin of our hands as we do. The Collective buzzes happily in our mind, they are pleased with our efforts. The Force sings songs of harsh winter this year and the animals have already begun to make their nests. Our crop will be added to the food stores, a necessary addition if the young are to be fed, and the Collective notes gratefully the size and robustness of this bounty.

We are pleased, the Forces hums a happy turquoise with it; we had feared that we would have to hunt instead if the harvest was poor, and we are relieved that the task shall go to another.

We scratch our head and sigh, once we would have been content to hunt, but we are growing old and our joints pain us in the frigid air. Now all we could manage is locating prey: tracking its passing by feeling the movement over the planetary webs of the lo'lingi -it is not nearly as exciting.

But for now we turn away from the uzime fields and head back to the village, where the light of a hundred individuals in the Collective glows bright in the Force.

 _SHIFT_

We are S̵̭͖̟͝k̸͕̒̑̉͜y̷̲̜̖̞̰̘͛̅͜-̶̢̧̢̯̦͚͈̥̚ͅw̵̟͎̐̌̌̾̿̋̊͘ḁ̸̄̈́n̴̨̟̺̭̼̮̜̾̌̄̈͗͑͊̕͘ͅͅd̶̬̞̬̮͕͚̣̈ẻ̸̡̮̦͇̦̘̪̥̔̈ͅr̴̡͖̤̞͎͕̞̰͋́è̸̡̡͚̟̣͍̠̳̈͂̈́͊͗̂̑͜͝ṙ̴̼͓͙̖̝̉̀͐̑-̷̢̧̖̱͉̣̜̹̳͕̄͋̐̈̀̋̓͝t̶̡̯̜̠̩͉̫͈͓͌͒h̸̥̗͕́̑̇̎͌͘͠͝a̷̳̫̦͓̼͇̭͖̯̜̎̓t̵̢̧̯͉̉̀́̑̿̂̕̚-̸͓̻̖̇͛͒s̵̨̟̫͔̭͚̏é̴̢̢̛͘͠͝ę̴̫͙͍̹̥̗̮̓͂̀͌̎́̚͝ͅk̷̟̩̠̏̋͊̆́̓̚š̸̘̮̯̹̭̮̼̝̿̈̌͘͜͝-̵̙̬̘̠̊͆͛́̿̀b̶̰̳͈͚͉͎̣̾̓͆ŗ̷͐͋i̶͕͓̪͆̆̇̈́̃̑͝͠ǧ̶̥͙̤̰͈̋͝h̴̗̓̿̎̄̅̀̕t̵̢̮͎͉̰̫̳̦̺͋̈́̃̌͐̓̕-̸̨̼͈̪̳͎̬̈́̌̿͐̓̃̊s̷̛̱̖̗̪̅̎̊̌͛̑̌͂̓u̵̮̒̀̉͛͆́̃ņ̸̘͍͖̾̿̉͆̈́̚̚͝͠͠s̸̨̟̻̣̝̐ and the Collective is _screaming._

It howls in our mind, a soundless, excruciating cry of agony that rips apart our psyche and shreds us to the bone. It is agony beyond any that we have felt and the Force shrieks in psychedelic red with horror as the planet _burns_.

The Collective thrums with terror, billions of individuals hurting and sobbing, lights being snuffed out and tearing holes in the web. We can feel hundreds of lo'lingi pass into the Force, their ageless presences fading into the void and pulling all around them with them. An unstoppable wave of death spreads out from the Heart Forests, a terrible thing that rips into the fabric of the planet; we know that within a week half of all plant life on Brion will perish.

It was the invaders that did this: cruel, ugly creatures with hideous grey skin, thin, domed heads and eyes that protrude from the sides of them. They stink of _Ish'kar,_ a rotten corrupted kind that bays for blood and burns with hatred: a fire so toxic that it corrodes the fibres of the Collective, splitting minds apart in the most horrific of ways.

We fear, wildly and without reservation, for the future of our people as we feel some of the young be led away in chains. The elders die in their beds or bleeding in the streets as the glow fades from their eyes; the powerful strapped into machines and their minds violated.

We shiver and sob from our hiding place in the dying forests, inconsolable as we try to comprehend the horror. They will find us, the minds of the others will lead them to those that hide, so we sit in the dark and choke on our own tears as we wait for the inevitable.

 _SHIFT_

You are Ta'kinl of the Sol'ari and today you ride into battle with your fellow kash'k'ar.

It has been a hundred generations since Liberation and still your planet is in chaos. The warring factions of Brion fight endlessly amongst themselves in a pointless squabble for dominance and nations rise and fall faster than the moons.

You are tired of it.

It sickens you, the never-ending war and bloodshed, the futile divisions imposed by borders and ideas; you want to vomit every time you look at a map. You see, as all do when the Oneness comes, visions of your Balthur ancestors: visions of their Collective and togetherness and you all but _burn_ with envy at it. Why can't all Brionians see it? See that you are one people and should stand under the same banner, see you should be united in case other Invaders come.

But no. Tribes separate themselves based on cosmetic differences and call themselves superior, claim domination with little to back it up. So what if Sol'ari skin is opaque while Ulniqi are translucent as the Balthur themselves? Who cares if the Da'kon have no irises or pupils or the Tokinvi's hearts beat at twice the pace? None of it matters, you are all Brionian, all one in the Force.

That is why you are here today, in your tent fixing your armour before battle, because you believe in a unified Brion and you believe that your people will do it. Your Force Lords are powerful and their Balance sends shockwaves through the Force, your armies are better trained -better prepared- than any of the others and the kash'k'ar bend nature to their will in ways alien to most. You are strong and centred, with the _Kim'ar_ to give you clarity and the _Ishk'ar_ to strike your enemies down, and you know that the Sol'ari will prevail.

 _SHIFT_

You are Lady Kalantri of House Oulovu and your family govern the Ymi'ti provinces of the Sol'ar Empire. You are young and beautiful, rich and noble, and the world kneels at your feet.

Your father seeks out a marriage for you, now that you have reached adulthood, but progress has been slow on that front. You have steadfastly refused each and every suitor that comes your way, the men and women both; you have no desire to chain yourself to one person forever in the way that a marriage bond requires.

You place your ornate silver hairbrush down on the dressing table and examine your reflection critically in the mirror. You are a picture perfect example of Brionian beauty: long black hair that spirals into a mass of riotous curls, petite symmetrical features, skin the colour of starlight and large dark eyes that make you look deceptively innocent. But you scowl derisively at the image and the reflection scowls back, twisting your beauty into something haughty and cold. There is nothing unique about the way you look, in the thousands of years since the Sol'ar conquest intermixing between tribes has made you a rather homogenous race: pale skin, slanted eyes, monochrome colouring -all of you the same.

You sigh and adjust your jewellery, the glittering Force crystals flashing in the light. You are tired of all the _sameness;_ you long for something more exotic, more _real_. The people of Brion may disguise their blandness beneath lurid colours and ornate fabrics all they like, but it doesn't hide the fact that you all look identical.

 _Kalantri, it's time get going,_ your father's deep voice rings across your familial bond, interrupting your thoughts, and you groan as you rise from your stool. You wince as little as your father jabs sharply at your mind in rebuke, but otherwise ignore him as you brush down the scarlet and sapphire silk of your gown.

The ancient city of Ilum'dai waits for none it seems.

 _SHIFT_

You are Salin'yu of the kash'k'ar, Force Lord of Brion, Supreme Commander of its armies and personal friend of the emperor and you know, looking up at the being that is to be your killer, that you have _failed_.

The offworlders appeared from nowhere, one minute the system was clear and the next, a fleet of enormous metal behemoths had appeared and opened fire on your home. To say that your people had been unprepared is an understatement: it's been nearly twenty-thousand years since the Infinite Empire vanished from Brion and the galaxy has left you alone ever since. Wars amongst your own people have grown less and less frequent since the Sol'ar conquest and so there has been little need for a military outside of tradition for millennia.

You, as the most powerful among the Force Lords, had the unenviable task of organising your planet's defence. Millions were drafted into hastily assembled battalions, every Force user on the planet with the smallest amount of training was sent onto the battlefields and your kash'k'ar were forced to fight the red devils themselves.

But it was all for naught. Across Brion a billion lie dead and Ilum'dai has fallen; your armies are all but destroyed, and though the kash'k'ar fought valiantly, there were simply too many of these _Sith_ to defeat. You, once the most powerful man on Brion, kneel at the feet of your conqueror, beaten and defeated.

You close your eyes as he swings his ghastly red blade down on your neck.

 _SHIFT_

You are B'anti navor Ashaki and you own nothing but your name.

The mines are deep and dark and crushing, the weight of thousands of tons of rock pushing down over your head and the blistering heat of the planet's core on your face. Klaren, the head of your mining group, senses your apprehension and fear through the Force and grabs your shoulder in a show of support and understanding. His pale skin is blackened with dust and his white eyes glow in the dark.

"Phrikite vein up ahead!" someone up the front calls and you shudder to yourself as you and Klaren head deeper into the tunnel to check.

It's times like these when you wonder what point of living is; you spend days at a time imprisoned below ground in this hell, working your body to ruin for your _masters_. The Sith Empire has ruled Brion for centuries now and its people, too _not Sith_ for the Empire, have been its slaves.

Anyone able-bodied is forced into the mines, everyone else is left to starve. You work day and night, year after year so that your masters will _deign_ to feed your family. Your wife, Calashl and your sons Uliv and Rash'ask, depend on these backbreaking hours, if it were not for them you would have wandered into the wastes years ago to die.

But sometimes, it's hard to see the point when your sons, your bright boys with their innocent black eyes, are navor Ashaki too: born bound as much as you are. When you look at them sometimes you have to try your hardest not to cry because you have failed them as a father by cursing them to this life: a half-life, where not even their bodies are their own and one day they too will rot in the black.

But you push these thoughts into the Force to silence them, they are distracting and even a kilo's less phrikite from your team will mean the overseer's whip. You take a deep breath, summon what little will you have left, and head deeper into the dark.

 _SHIFT_

You are Auray'a navor Ashaki, a slave born of a slave, the Na'na va'tor, the Wrath and never again will you kneel to this _monster_.

Your people have toiled for centuries, under oppression, under the whip and this man expects you to willingly submit? _Never._ You will have no more masters.

The light of the galaxy and its billion stars illuminates the emperor's new throne room, a bubble of glass atop a world. His appearance has changed since your sister struck him down on his station above Dromund Kaas, but you will never forget the poisonous feel of his mind, nor the way his toxic presence taints the Force; you will never forget the way it once ensnared you.

You had no choice then, not after that fat oaf Baras tried to kill you, no choice but to let him sink his dark fingers into your mind and name you his Wrath. But once again you are alone: your aunt on the Dark Council is lightyears away, fighting this man's new empire, and you bid your husband, sworn sister and apprentice flee. Your mother and sister are busy fighting the same fight for the Republic and your only ally -Marr- lies dead on the ground a metre behind you.

But you clawed your way up from the dirt to your position, bowed and scraped and bided your time until you, a lowly slave whose aunt had conveniently discovered ties to a lost ancient bloodline, climbed higher than any of your overseers. You bled for where you are, conquered worlds and slayed your enemies; you achieved victory and _broke your chains_.

So when this immortal monsters extends his hand and offers you power in his empire if only you kneel, you spit in his face.

""Share"? You don't share anything …you enslave. You devour. I will never be part of that."

"So be it."

 _SHIFT_

You are A'sashan Ashaki of the line of the Empress Eternal and around you her legacy is collapsing.

You hide, cloaked in the Force and hidden in the shadows, waiting for one of the traitors to walk past. You burn with hatred at the thought of them, your soul alight with the _Ishk'ar_ as you weave it around you to obscure you from view.

They piss on your noble foremother's work with their actions, distain everything she ever achieved. She was great and powerful, both benevolent and cruel, and she led the Sith Empire back from the verge of karking collapse. Their treachery disgusts you.

The empress ruled a third of the galaxy for a thousand years and this is their gratitude? They are the children of the Nameless, slavers, thugs, and you curse them from your hiding place. By their own kriffing customs she was their leader by right: killing the previous emperor and gaining his stolen longevity as he tried to steal her body; the millennium she sat the throne saw the empire aspire to heights beyond endless pointless infighting and bloody wars.

And if she happened to free Brion in the process, well, that was just a bonus.

However, almost hundred years ago she vanished and no one knows why, leaving her empire without the lynchpin that held it together. After a thousand years of peace under the rule of someone too powerful to defy, the empire has collapsed into war.

Feuding, treacherous Sith Lords have seized power over individual worlds and rule their own pathetic kingdoms, forgetting that for a millennium the Empress Eternal protected them all from losing their war with the Jedi. They destroy everything that was built and dishonour their own karking legacies.

But you are of the empress's line and you declare that they will not have Brion. Brion will never again be bound in chains.

The empress kept the name Ashaki even after Brion was freed, gave it to her children as a reminder -a memento of where they came from so that they could never forget. As a result, your family remember: they remember the centuries of forced labour, the millions that starved, the long years that Brionian bodies were not their own. Your family will never forget.

And now you, eldest child of the eldest child of the eldest child, back to the empress herself, will keep that name and ensure that none other than your line will ever have to wear it again. You are a hunter, you hunt down any and all traitors and Sith that dare set foot on Brion.

And when one of the devils walks past you, poisonous yellow eyes aglow, you leap down, blades extended.

 _SHIFT_

You are Doshovo Ashaki, nominal leader of Brion, and your planet is dying.

You stand on the very edge of the thermo-reg shield, your back to the ramshackle shanty of hovels behind you, and stare out onto the frozen wastes that were once the great plains of Balthu'katarn. It is a beautiful view, in a monstrous way: a magnificent desolation. The ice is harsh and sharp and unforgiving and you know from experience that the air is cold enough to freeze blood.

This blank, white, _painfully_ bright canvas is the last vengeance of the Sith, and what a vengeance it is.

With the Hunters slaughtering any Sith that landed on world and the planetary shielding stopping their fleets from simply obliterating the planet from orbit, they'd had to turn to less _conventional_ techniques to win. This had been their answer. When it had happened it had felt like a thousand bloody knives shredding Brion in the Force, like a poison so cold it _burned_ winding its way through your veins. It had tainted your planet so completely that all life had refused to grow, animals were born deformed and the temperature plummeted so far that the oceans froze.

A slow death, crawling like some deformed monster across every inch of land: slow enough that you saw it coming, slow enough that you knew for certain that you couldn't stop it.

Billions, _billions_ , had starved and frozen as the sustenance and fuel had begun to get increasingly scarce; the creeping, insidious fear of it spreading like rot across all your interconnected minds. Many had simply killed themselves rather than risk slow starvation and Brion had gone from a population of more than six billion to less than a hundred million in the space of thirty years.

The survivors huddle behind you in one of six sprawling makeshift cities that cover the only land on Brion not tainted by Sith alchemy. The remnants of holy cities, ruined first by the Sith invasion, then the collapse of the Eternal Empire and now the freezing of the land. They are the only places on Brion food can be grown and the only places where shields against the cold can be set up.

You wonder, as hatred of the Sith ferments in your heart like some malignant disease, if this is how the Balthurians felt when the great lo'lingi trees burnt and the Heart Forests died. You wonder if the slow death of their species and the degradation of their Collective felt in any way like the huge gaping emptiness in the Brionian Force network; resembled in any way the great chasms in the crystalline structure that connects your minds.

You hate the Sith. You hate them beyond anything, beyond all reason. They are treacherous animals, undeserving of the life they have, Celestial born rats, a plague upon the galaxy and you would quite happily rip out their hearts by hand.

Your planet is a frozen karking wasteland because of them, dripping and oozing the taint of their perverted Force use. Your mind is wrecked and damaged, over ninety percent of your race is dead and your cities, relics and entire civilisation is buried under ice so thick and cold you could never cut through it.

You don't think your people will ever recover. You feel their minds hardening even now, locking their grief and misery and pain down somewhere deep in the Force, cutting themselves off as the Force network becomes ever sharper and less forgiving.

This is a hatred, you think, that will reverberate down generations.

You sigh and turn away from the ghastly white of the ice and the harsh cold of the sun's rays. You have too much to do to sit and wallow in your own fury: there are millions of people to feed, a government to set up, and civilisation to rebuild.

You walk away, the icy winds swirling behind you, just out of reach.

 _SHIFT_

 _You are Isharia Ashaki, a princess of Brion, and the Force sings around you as you open your eyes._


End file.
